driftwood
by SebonzaMitsuki27
Summary: Reno, Elena, Rude. AU. Tabula rasa flecked in blood with the sister that was left behind.
1. the perpetual dreamer

**i. the perpetual dreamer**

* * *

"_You believe in forever, don't you?"_

"_Forever and ever."_

_A hesitant pause, reticent and a near mockery of contemplation._

"_It's a nice thought, isn't it?"_

* * *

She woke, slowly becoming aware of the fact that she was wet, sea foam soaking her clothes, water lapping her clothes. The ground beneath her was soft, surrendering easily, swept away by the briny current, waves stealing more secrets than she'll ever know. The sun beat upon her and she could feel the water drying on her skin. And a pungent smell clung to her, almost tangible in her mouth and she wondered if the taste of salt was merely mermaid tears… a secret that she'd never know.

Looking around, she saw nothing but shut houses and closed stalls, bright colours dreary against the clear blue sky, paling in strange detachment.

Her hands seemed strange, slender limbs that had somehow become alien to her. Not bizarre exactly, just… odd.

She glanced down, and noticed that she was wearing white shirt, damp and a little too tight for her liking.

Yet there are red stained flecked upon the blouse, and her blood went cold. It's dry. There's also some concealed on what's left of her… shorts.

Oh.

Oh _god._

Her breath froze, throat thick and her voice became hardly more than a whisper, rendered inaudible by the breeze.

Why… why was there _blood_—

What happened?

How did she get here?

Where was she?

Only then did she realize that she had no idea what her name was.

* * *

Disclaimer: ffvii is not mine.


	2. stereo boom

**ii. stereo boom**

* * *

_Pop!_

Bubblegum burst in Reno's mouth, one too many times for Rude's liking. Yes, his cohort was _finally_ trying to give up smoking, and yes, chewing bubblegum _could_ technically be a substitute for nicotine – one of many in fact, but… _still._

Did he… did he have to so _loud?_

"Rude." Reno drawled, chewing incessantly, non-stop like a motor. Raked his hand through his hair and sighed. Apparently modesty had no place within Reno's vanity. Using 'guy-liner' was today's tactic for being a chick-magnet. Unfortunately, it worked. And there were more numbers stuffed in Reno's pocket than usual. "… you're making that face again."

Rude's face did not twitch. Rude's face did not move. Rude's face was more or less the same throughout the day.

If, therefore, that was the case, then how was he making a 'face', if he himself did not react?

"C'mon, would it really hurt if you gave a smile once in a while?" Green eyes glittered sideways, matching the pointed look that Reno was giving him, an annoying smirk playing on his lips. It was sheer luck, Rude decided in that moment, that Reno was not crashing into anything or making uncomfortable swerves that he used to do in his earlier days, purely for 'the thrill of it'.

To answer Reno's question, smiles needed to be used sparingly. And only at times when he really meant it.

"… eyes back on the road." Rude evenly said, hand settling on the seat beat. While style was always nice to roll by, safety always came first. Well, no. That wasn't true either; style took priority over safety _except_ for Reno. When Reno was the driver of a vehicle, then _that_ seat beat was a damn needed necessity.

A lot of rookie mistakes were made because it wasn't.

"Pfft." Reno rolled his eyes, but he did what Rude said. And then uncomfortably swerved; chuckling as Rude stiffened. "Fine."

He'd made the wrong turn on the road, but neither particularly cared at the moment.

"Reno." Rude shot him a glance, eyebrow arched. Translation: care to elaborate on 'the face'?

"You know _the _'face'." Reno's incredulity was to no avail, barely hinting. It had to be said aloud, properly explained. "The one that _clearly_ states that you're pissed off. And knowing you, which I do, very well – might I add, it's about me."

_Pop!_

Rude closed his eyes, slowly remembering to not give anything away.

"… it's nothing."

_Pop!_

"Sure." Reno grinned. And in that moment, Rude _knew_ that Reno knew. He fucking knew about the chewing gum and he wasn't going to do a damn thing to change it. "Whatever you say, Rude."

_Pop!_

… bastard.

* * *

Face slumped in her arms, she sighed.

Blonde hair. Brown eyes. Pale skin.

… and a mole, just under her earlobe.

It didn't matter how much she stared at the mirror, it was still a stranger that stared back.

She kind of hated that her blond hair looked like a water rat, completely drenched, even if the colour kind of became molten honey.

Maybe the problem was that she was putting too much hope in that reflection – and now there was only disappointment.

Honestly, she didn't know what she was expecting. Maybe a memory. Or something that would clue her in and give her jolt of recollection.

Like a… like a _snap!_

A click of the fingers – and everything was back in place.

But right now… she was a jigsaw puzzle without any of the pieces.

"'scuse me. Miss?" A voice called her attention, and she looked up, instantly straightening and sitting properly. Her face reddened when the waitress laughed, feeling incredibly awkward. "Can I help you?"

Silence.

Her mouth parted, about to speak before she even knew what was she was going to say.

"… can you?"

* * *

Their destination was the home of a scientist who had scarpered; or dead, if the rumours were true. And it was a mess, so Reno was pretty certain that Rude was seething at this moment. Internally, of course; since surrounding the bald Turk was chaotic anarchy, a haphazard job of tidiness, it would no doubt take a toll on his restraint. Not that Reno was doing _anything_ to push that limit.

_Pop!_

"… Reno." Rude's voice was like a lighthouse; flashlight focused on one spot before searching for his partner over the clutter. "Found something."

"Yeah?" A grin slipped easily onto his face. "Be right there."

It was a black and white photo, slightly crumpled. The scientist, beaming in the centre, stood with his arm around a youthful girl in a sailor uniform. The girl smirked, and yet there was something cold in her glassy eyes. Behind them stood a building, either the laboratory or the one they were in right now, windows gleaming.

A photo. Big deal.

"Turn it over." Rude prompted him, shining the flashlight on him.

And Reno did so.

Words were messily scrawled on the other side:

_The girl is the key._


	3. hard granite stone

**iii. hard granite stone**

* * *

"Huh."

He recognized her instantly.

The girl in the photo – how could he not?

She was different, yes, but only slightly. Younger than he'd ever known her, high cheekbones and cold brown eyes, and still in her schoolgirl uniform – a sailor suit that Reno kind of liked. A lot. It had a sort of… appeal to it. Not quite like chocobo-nurses, and not quite like gardeners, but it was certainly… _appealing_. To put it mildly.

But back onto the main topic.

"Rude." Reno looked up, all too aware that a grim expression had set upon his features. He didn't feel like chewing gum anymore.

No doubt about it. She was completely recognizable, and black and white easily changed to colour for him.

The girl. Blonde hair. Brown eyes. Pale skin.

And judging by Rude's frowning forehead, he too knew about it.

But what was the connection between her and the scientist?

"Yeah. I know." Terse, Rude began to shed light on the rest of the apartment, to find more clues. "… it's her."

And if it was her—

"You think… you think _she's_ the 'key'?" Whatever the hell that meant.

"Maybe." The bald man shrugged. There was a chance, and they couldn't cross it out. "But—"

"—yeah." He stuffed the photo in his pockets, ever so tempted to rip it into pieces. Pressed a hand to his head, trying to obscure his annoyance; and exhaled, wondering what the hell they were going to do now.

If she was the 'key'…

—then… then they had a problem.

Because Rosalind was dead.

* * *

The waitress' name was Jackie. She had chestnut brown hair that slid into a ponytail and curled around the back of her neck and green eyes that were flecked in gold.

Jackie offered a place for her to stay, and she just said _yes,_ because she had no idea where she'd go otherwise. Probably the beach. And get washed away again.

There turned out to be Gil in her pockets, a button and a pencil with broken lead. And a laminated card in her shoe.

A laminated card that had a name.

_Elena._

"… that's who you are? Elena?" Jackie offered a gentle smile, and wondered if that was reassuring. Hoped so, at the very least. Maybe her smile was a bit apologetic – didn't really expect to get a roommate, and even if her flat wasn't extremely messy, it still could do with sprucing up.

_Elena._

It was a nice enough name, 'Elena' supposed, and she could live with it. But… it was just a name. A label. Pot, kettle, plant. In time, she could get used to it. In time, she could like it.

"Used to know an Elena." Jackie flashed a smile in reminisce. "Everyone kept calling her different names. Ellen, Elena, Helena, Helen. She told me that she wanted people to call her Nel." Her lips, deep red lipstick pursed together as she shook her head. "Never caught on."

"Helena…" That name sticks to her like honey, and she likes the certain twang of sweetness that lies in its centre. "I like that."

"Well then, 'Helena'," Jackie laughed, offering her hand to shake, which Helena eventually took, "I think it's a pleasure to meet you."

Heat spread through her cheeks, and the blonde girl found herself returning the grin. "Thank you. And likewise."

"Don't mention it." And then Jackie clapped her hands, determining that it was, in fact, time to prepare dinner. Healthy stuff without any of that propaganda crap. "Welcome to your new home."

* * *

Helena sat on the sofa and listened to the seconds pass, ticking clocks and the noises on the streets.

Tried to digest this, slowly – once her clothes had been discarded and she was left to use baggy pyjamas.

Given time, this could be her home.

But really, though she was grateful for this act of kindness, it felt like the furthest thing from home. She was merely a guest, here to stay.

And Helena thought that the walls were closing in on her, trying to stop her breath.


	4. freeze

**iv. freeze**

* * *

_She's spinning like the gyroscopes that her daddy loves so much._

_Round and round and up and down._

_Fingers are splayed, and there's no reason not to laugh._

_Everything is visible in the corner of her mind._

_Light, blinding._

_Colour, surrounding._

_Sea, drowning._

_Only then does she realize that she can't breathe_ _and she's not laughing, she's screaming._

_She falls to the floor, bruised, knees scraped, and there's a girl who looks just like her._

_Except there's no mirror anywhere in sight._

_While her mouth is left ajar, the doppelganger is saying something and she just can't hear._

_And she's running before she even remembers why._

* * *

And she screamed before she even realized that she couldn't remember the dream she'd just had.


	5. cherry bang

**v. cherry bang**

* * *

_Six months later…_

Pink and blue. That's the colour of the girl's polka dot dress as she chats with her friend, her hands cupping her face as she leant forward. Nose scrunched up, mouth pouting, bottom lip stuck out. Amicably, she flashed a cheeky grin, before laughing and twirling; grabbed the tray that held the latest batch of request to give to the customer.

Rude lowered his newspaper, and wondered if it's her.

_Rosalind. _Back from the dead.

But her behaviour said otherwise. There's a naivety and youthfulness as she skipped, hopped and stumbled over chairs and the like, apologizing with a grin on her face. Her eyes, brown as he remembered, were wide and curious. Thicker too, though that could just be the accentuation of mascara.

"Hi, I'm sorry for the wait. There was a little mix-up… with the orders, and my friend just chucked in the bin. So, if you'd be really nice, not glare at me, could you tell me what you ordered again?" She spoke quickly, a stutter in her nervousness. From time to time, the possible Rosalind glanced back to her friend. "Look, I'm really sorry, but—"

"… I didn't order anything."

"… oh, okay." She stepped back and digested the information, face losing that red flush, momentarily puzzled before gaining a grin instead. "Alright, um, I guess there's no harm done. Well, then, sir… would you like to order anything, or should I come back later?" Blinked, frowned, shrugged and opened her mouth again; the girl was like a motor, apparently never stopping to breathe. "That's odd; I could have sworn that I served you something before."

"… maybe another day." He cleared his throat and folded his newspaper back into perfection. As every man should, but didn't. "I'll have the latte."

"Huh, I didn't think you were the type." She nodded; jotting the word and table number down, and Rude was finally able to discern what her name is. _Helena._ The waitress in question offered a lopsided smile as an apology. If it was that. "Still. Good choice, it's very nice." A short pause before she began to speak again, fingers snapping into a gun. "I will see you in a minute. Be right back."

Clearly, this person wasn't Rosalind.

For one, she talked too much.

* * *

"Latte, table ten, Jackie. Please. Oh, and add some smiley biscuits," Helena lowered her voice, attempting to be discreet as she flitted back to her bald customer. "I think the guy might need some."

"… and if he doesn't?" Jackie rolled her eyes, myrtle green all too aware of her roommate's tendencies. After all, this had happened before. And not all of her attempts to make the Planet a better place worked.

"Then I'll eat them." Her response was typical… except Helena wasn't supposed to do that. Instead, she was meant to convince the customer that the biscuits complimented the latte and that the delicious taste of the biscuits was worth paying extra Gil.

"Your pay check, hun, not mine." Jackie shrugged, neatly aligning the plate at the centre of the tray, the latte in the cup. And then added the aforementioned 'smiley biscuits.' "Take care."

"You know me," Helena grinned. "I always do."

* * *

Was it worth telling Reno?

Making a quick phone call, asking him to check it out… was it really necessary?

And this was the first vacation in a while where they had _separate_ holidays. The mystery of the scientist still hadn't cleared up, or the legacy that may or may not exist. In fact, they'd come to two conclusions, either drop the chocobo chase now and for all eternity, or give it a bit of a break and simply enjoy their free time while it lasted. Reno chose the former; Rude the latter and decided that what he needed was warm sunny beaches and nothing but sunshine.

Fun in the sun.

Rude had intended his holiday to be tranquil and, exactly as Reno had coined it, looked forward to the absence of his partner.

Until he'd found _her_.

The waitress called 'Helena' who flashed a megawatt grin and had absolutely no recognition of him, who acted completely different and answered to a different name.

Like she was a completely different person.

Despite her sunny disposition, she was a carbon copy of the crumpled photocopy of 'Rosalind.'

He sighed, and decided that, if nothing else, Reno deserved to know.

* * *

Costa Del Sol was eternal summer for Helena. A whirlwind of colour and excitement carried in the ocean breeze. It warmed her skin and played with her hair. And the customers liked to chat.

Lately, she's been stuck making sandcastles in her spare time, solely to watch them fade away. A magnificent fortress sunk by water.

Sometimes she'll collect seashells and glue them onto buckets. And sell them.

Jackie merely rolled her eyes at her roommate's antics. But she's a better saleswoman than Helena would ever be.

Costa Del Sol was eternal summer for Helena. A whirlwind of colour and excitement carried in the ocean breeze. It warmed her skin and played with her hair. And it had begun to feel like home.

* * *

It only took two days for Rude to know pretty much everything about Helena's life – the good, the bad, personal anecdotes and gossipy chatter that Rosalind would never indulge in.

So here she was, relaxing, on her break, smoothing out her yellow and green striped dress. After all, she still had five minutes left.

And the door bell chimed, Helena's eyes flicking to the side before she stood up, deciding that she should pick up the slack again. After all, customers meant Gil, and Gil meant that the café lived. She also stole a biscuit, bourbon this time, half-snapped because the bald Turk discovered that he had an affinity for that particular brand, and Helena was willing to share. Of course she was willing to share; he was paying, after all.

"Later then." Helena grinned, swaying slightly as she walked back to the counter, already pulling faces at the brunette.

When she turned away for good, it was in that moment that her chair was occupied. _He_ didn't need introductions, cocky smirk gracing his mouth, sly look sliding so easily into the word _hello._

Except, his cohort was behaving a little too silently for Rude's preference. Hands draped across his arms, legs folded smoothly; Reno was utterly still. He wasn't talking, merely watching the waitress in a striped dress, odd expression on his face.

Reno was unreadable, but he never broke away, observing, observing, observing a little too intensely for Rude's liking.

But he heard Reno speak quietly, stiffening in shock; while the girl in question remained oblivious.

"… Elena."


	6. invert the green triangle

**vi. invert the green triangle**

* * *

"Reno?"

The person in question snapped his head to Rude, jerking back to the call of his name. Emotion flickered coolly in his eyes, serpent green, debating something internal. Not quite doubt, not quite uncertainly. But something close. Almost as if he was resisting every part of gravity to not look at that girl while his attention focused on Rude.

"No, nothing." Reno shook his head, dispersing whatever thought he held in his mind. Clapped his hands, and stood up, never once looking back. He was in a mood, hasty, and didn't want to dispense the pleasantries. This time. Energy bounced and exuded from him; clearer than ever, balloons popping in his proximity like the gum that his friend detested. "Let's go."

"… right." This was odd. This was very odd. And Rude was unsure how to react.

"Places to be, people to see. And that, simply put, is not here." He was fidgeting, terse and uncomfortable. "I guess vacation's over. You mind?"

"No, not really." It was nice while it lasted, but his holidays always turned out a bit boring. Not that the bald Turk had a problem with this.

"Good." Reno's voice was crisp. Too crisp. Slick, he raked his hand through his hair. "Then we have no reason to stay here any longer."

"…"

With nothing left but dust in his wake, Reno left the café.

Rude, bemused and chagrined, followed.

* * *

"Redhead at three o'clock was totally checking you out." Jackie winked to Helena as the door shut behind the two Turks.

"Yeah?" Helena's mouth tilted upwards, a half-smile forming. "That's nice."

Neither one said anything for a moment, but both were perfectly aware of the rising blush on the younger girl's cheeks.

"You didn't notice?" Teasing, the brunette leaned on the counter, hands supporting her face. "Real cute, that, you big liar."

"Shh." The blonde looked away, acting as if the two Turks could hear them. "I don't date customers."

"So, not your type?" Jackie prompted, arching her eyebrow, knowing exactly what was going through her friend's mind, hands clenching and unclenching, a habit that the brunette had discovered when she wound up her blonde friend enough. "'Cause you know… my shift is over in five minutes. And you know, I haven't had a double date in quite some time…"

"Hey! No, that's not fair!"

Flailing, and well aware that she was being ridiculed, Helena wondered which Turk her friend was talking about.

* * *

More than ever he wanted to shoot a duck.

"… are you going to explain that?" Rude sighed, quite comfortable on the park bench while his partner paced, twitching from time to time.

"No. Yes. Wait. What are you talking about?" Eyes wide, the feigned puzzled act was not fooling Rude. In all that of their budding friendship, Rude had never seen Reno quite as agitated as this. His speech rang with a buzz of panic, and still, he had not calmed down.

And they only went to the bar after six.

Even so, that damn duck that sat in the pond – lake, really – it was bigger than a pond, was asking to get shot. Oh, it may try to hide under that underpass of willow trees, and it may try to swim down the lake-pond-thing in order to get as far away as possible. But there was no denying that that duck was going to _drown._

"… Helena." Rude stated calmly and slowly, taking care to gauge the redhead's reaction. While on the surface, Reno was usually deceptively chipper and prone to not let things faze him, there was a darker side that existed inside of him. Rude himself had only glimpsed at in times of great peril. "The waitress." A pause, and Rude deliberately drew the suspense, observant of the tension that had arisen in Reno. "Elena, to you."

_Not Rosalind._

And Helena, despite her smiles and giggles, always insisted that it her name was Helena and nothing else.

"Do you know her?"

A bitter grimace graced the pale faced Turk, hands slid in his pockets, shoulders pressed together.

"Once." His nostalgia sank like the burning sun, and there were no fond memories to look back on. "Not any more."


	7. sour berry tang

**vii. sour berry tang**

* * *

The clue lay with the packed bags stacked by the doorframe.

Troubled, Helena wondered why they were there. After all, Jackie never mentioned leaving, not once.

Although, she hadn't noticed them right away at midnight; wiping her eyes and trying to stifle a yawn as she crept across the carpet, neatened but still slightly messy. She made a note to tidy up in the morning, since there was no harm in an aesthetic room. Also, it gave her something to do and simultaneously raised her spirits. It all had to do with being the cleaning fairy.

But that really was a passing thought as Helena explored the fridge; eyes squinted as the light blinded her.

Milk. That's all she wanted, really.

Apparently milk was the only solution the help her nightmares fade. Even now, she had them, shrouded in darkness, even though the screaming had stopped a few months back. Still, Helena couldn't remember them, neither the context nor the possible people involved. But she remembered the emotions. They ran down her spine, and curled into her fist.

And she could never sleep well after that.

So there Helena was, in her jimjams and drinking her milk, debating whether hot chocolate dipped in marshmallows was a better solution than plain milk.

Dimmed lights and ticking clocks. Background scenery that remained silent. Sighing, Helena looked up, mussed hair blurring her view.

But she noticed all the same.

"What?" Voice a whispered, she stared. Then rubbed her eyes.

It must be the nightmare, or something to that effect that made her see things that weren't there.

After all, Jackie would have given her a notice prior than the last minute.

Unless… her roommate had grown tired of her? No, Helena shook her head, banishing that thought. That would have been too much melodrama.

Jackie wasn't like that.

She _wasn't_.

Yawning, the blonde placed her glass by the sink, and returned to bed once again.

And if the suitcases were still there… then… they were still there, and they would discuss it.

* * *

There were rocks. Land. And lots more rocks.

Scenery was so terribly interesting and made great conversation.

Reno slept in the car, while Rude drove. Even in slumber, the redhead was a frigging cat. He didn't purr, and that was a relief. He had his theory for a while of how many feline attributes Reno had. At least he could cross another one off the list.

But when he woke up, unsteady, unfocused, disorientated and tense, it took a couple of seconds for Rude to calm Reno down.

They weren't going to Midgar. They were going to the Golden Saucer.

They still had a few days to relax, and they might as well make the most of it.

It didn't help their situation. It didn't relieve the atmosphere.

Especially upon discovering that a lucid Reno did not like Rude's calming choice of radio music to listen to while there was silence.

"Bad dream?" Sympathetic as he could muster, the bald Turk asked.

"No." Therein was the breezy lie and disappointment. "It wasn't."

Perhaps, if Reno was telling the truth, it was the reason why his expression was troubled as dawn flew in the sky.

* * *

Really, Helena did not want the sun to shine so brightly.

Nor did she want to realize that she had yet _again_ tumbled out of her bed, and stayed like that for the rest of the night. Bones comfortably uncomfortable and there was no willpower that Helena could find to move. Even if it was really, really beginning to hurt.

"Breakfast time, sunshine!" Jackie called from afar. "I'm making pancakes, so hurry up."

Internally, Helena cheered. Pancakes were a special treat that Jackie rarely indulged in. But they were always tasty and nothing could compare to the awesome flavour. One day she'd find out what the secret ingredient was.

… maybe.

Hang on.

_Pancakes._ Suitcases from last night.

Was Jackie trying to butter her up?

Reluctantly, as her mind connected the dots, the blonde found the willpower to get up and go to the kitchen. She cast a glance at the door, and there they were: red suitcases with stickers placed in disarray, some broken words and others, pictures of animals and smiley faces. Her smile faded slightly, but appeared with the scent of freshly made breakfast.

Sitting down at the table, she played with the cutlery, straightening them and aligning them perfectly. Even so, Helena still saw the suitcases out of the corner of her eye, and couldn't resist glancing at them every few minutes, growing nervous about the news.

"Oh, you already saw them?" Jackie sighed, placing the fresh batch of pancakes on the centre of the table. Her tone wasn't neutral, merely amused and slightly sad. Pensively poignant, perhaps. "… I had wanted to surprise you, but—"

"Saw them last night." A bitter smile crossed her face. "Sorry."

"Another one?" Worry smudged the brunette's smile away, green eyes losing their glitter. "I told you that it's okay to wake me—"

"No," Helena shook her head, feeling impossibly young. "It's alright. I can take of… I don't even know what they're _about_, so how can you… how can I…" She tried again. "They're just dreams."

"Maybe." Jackie didn't look convinced though. "Maybe not."

Discomfited, Helena shifted and decided to start eating a pancake. It was an old argument, but she still didn't like it when it occurred again.

"Oh, don't be like that." Annoyance flickered in the older woman's expression. "You're acting like a child." Helena's response to that was to prod her doughy pancake. "Look, that's the reason why I thought we should go."

"What?" Brown eyes wide, Helena was shocked. She hadn't thought that. "What do you mean 'we'?"

"Helena…" Arching her eyebrow, Jackie tilted her head to the side, somewhat amused. "Did you think I was going to go _without_ you?"

"…" Embarrassed, her cheeks flushed red.

"Twit." And her cheeks burned. "The holiday is to see if you can remember anything! I had it all planned out – we explore the Planet, venture into the unknown and send a whole bunch of postcards to the people here, and we'll see if anything triggers a memory!"

"Jackie," Helena grinned, touched by her friend's gesture. "Thank you."

Her teeth flashed and showed her beam. "Any time, Hel. Just tell me if you remember anything, got it?"

"Got it."

With that, the two settled into breakfast.


	8. beheld by sunbeams

**viii. beheld by sunbeams**

* * *

_"You're Reno, right?"_

_Looking up, he sees her leaning against the wall, contemplating something. _

_Perfect. Perfectly. Perfectly alive. There she is with cold glass eyes and warm shiny hair and her pale sunlight skin._

_She stands, she walks, she talks._

_A ghost glowing white amongst a surrounding of black ties and suits and shoes. People murmur, but they don't hear a thing._

_There, and yet detached from everything else._

_"That's right."_

_He remembers this._

_Every detail, every blink, every hidden smirk curving her cheeks. He knows them all, and yet he doesn't know her. She is an image frozen in time, and he's stepping back and running even while he's standing still._

_But she's still there._

_He remembers her eyes most of all._

_The way they sharpen, __hard edged diamonds __before the shape rounds to something warm, amber pure._

_A clear blue sky. A green, green ocean. And golden, burning sand._

_She holds a gun, he cracks a grin, and she offers him her hand. _

_Then, everything breaks apart. __Shatters crystallized memory._

_"I'm—"_

_"I know."_

_Backtrack a second. _

_The land is about to swallow him up. So she sits, partially eaten by rivulets of the sea. With her tears, the atmosphere is a little brighter. _

_Colour blinds his eyes and he wonders why it hurts._

_Cold. Hot. Warm._

_Shake. Shake. Slap._

_"Get out! Go away! Don't—"_

_Pressed against. Pain against his face. The red mark of sorrow. But he feels her sobs more than anything else._

_He's left distinctly dishevelled, the tremors of a storm clamouring behind the window of a house he's never even entered._

_He remembers this._

_He's lived it._

_Rain pours and it soaks into his skin like her teeth rake into his spine. _

_He remembers many things._

_But he tries to forget._

_And what he remembers most is the way the coffin is swallowed by the earth, dirt covering the girl with the sun in her eyes._

* * *

"Fuck."

Reno splashed water over his face, mumbling curses under his breath.

Heaved in, heaved out, and tried to believe that the dream wasn't a subconscious thing, that his guilt wasn't a symbolic metamorphosis for a certain blonde haired, brown eyed girl.

Tried to believe that in the world of dreams, the stark differences between them weren't blurring.

His hand found the door handle and wrapped tightly around it. He didn't open the door, didn't make a sound; merely glanced back at the mirror, frustrated at himself.

There was a reason he preferred to be an insomniac.


	9. whizz pop

**ix. whizz pop**

* * *

Felt like a dream, how the days slipped away so quickly.

North Corel. The Golden Saucer. The weapon seller who had a nice house. Gongaga. The Ancient Forest. Cosmo Canyon. Nibelheim.

Sunshine and rain; moonbeams and thunderstorms, and still the two women travelled on.

Helena could hardly believe two months had passed while on their vacation, and still, nothing was coming back to her. Oh, there were glimpses, sensory moments in which she believed that she could almost touch the corresponding memory with her fingers. Those moments were only moments, ending, and then urge to touch slipped away. Like a light switch, on and off again.

Two months.

"Maybe Rocket Town will be the one?" Jackie gave a bright smile, luggage in her hand.

"Maybe, yeah." Slow to answer, Helena eventually returned the grin but was unable to convey a firm belief, lacking the genuineness that was a central part of her. "Hope so."

Two months, and she's still as lost as when she opened her eyes on that briny beach.

* * *

It was totally the leaflet's fault, Helena would later say, when she looked back at this moment.

Completely and utterly the leaflet's fault.

Because she just couldn't resist taking rides on chocobos because they were her favourite animal of time. Plus, they made that _adorable_ 'kweh' sound that made her squeal and pet the chocobo and stroke those fluffy feathers once more.

"Please?" Helena grinned, megawatt smile lighting up her hazel eyes. "I mean, you don't have to go or anything, but—a chocobo ranch! A _chocobo ranch_ with _chocobo babies_ and different colours like chocobo _pink_ and chocobo _yellow_ and chocobo _green_ and chocobo _blue_!"

"Okay, kiddo." Jackie laughed, amused by the childish enthusiasm as she twisted a lock of her chestnut hair around her fingertips. "Do what you want – go and see them. Who knows, maybe you're a chocobo racer? Or, _were_ one, at any rate. Maybe?"

The elder female did not look convinced at the idea, much to the blonde's annoyance, who rather liked the idea that she _could in fact be _a chocobo _racer_.

"Twenty Gil says I'm a natural." Helena said immediately, recognizing that look on Jackie's face anywhere. So, clearly, she had to make the bet first. Obviously.

"_Thirty_ Gil says you're not." Jackie leered, snapping her fingers immediately, and it looked a little predatory. But then Jackie kind of scared the younger girl with her competitive streak which she tried so hard to hide. It reared its ugly head when quiz shows were on, and the brunette both knew and didn't know the answer. Helena wisely kept her mouth shut during those moments, unless directly addressed.

"You're on." They shook on it, and the blonde paused as she reached the door. "Make sure you don't forget it."

"Why ever would I do that?" Never mind that she usually changed the conditions and amount of Gil and odds on the bets that were made. Jackie never bought it. "I play _fair_."

"Sure you do." Emerald eyes rolled, and Helena quickly shut the door behind her to block out the laughter.

* * *

Perhaps the only thing to console Helena was the thought of chocobo babies in multicolour splendour.

And the colour of the sun, illuminating the clear blue sky.

If only there wasn't the promise of rain, so the forecast said.

* * *

"Rude, Reno here." The redhead sighed, stretching his arms and legs and relishing the sound of his bones clicking. Others may find it disgusting, but those other people's disgusted expressions were sometimes worth it. But right now, with the evening drawing close, he didn't really care. "Job done."

_"… okay then."_ Reno strained his ears, sure he could hear Rude typing. His best friend did always have an addiction to computers, or keyboards, and typewriters, always pressing buttons. _"When are you coming back?"_

"A day or two." Lips quirked upwards, and he flashed a crooked smile. "I think I deserve a pat on the back. Once in a while."

_"… sure."_ Apathetic, as usual, Rude was not impressed. _"Once in a while._"

"Darling, you shouldn't sound so droll. It really isn't your style." He stopped where he was, admiring the Rocket. He really _did_ like this town, partly because the bar tender had a pretty face and partly because the atmosphere was so friendly. Unfortunately, their job had been a deadend. Celebration was nonetheless needed. After all, he remained on the job till the very end. He yawned, unable to suppress it any longer.

_"Reno…"_ A warning.

"I'm fine." Blinking, Reno gathered his bearing and decided to walk to the pub. Stopped, giving in to the dizziness for just a moment. Just a second. Just a breath. "Ugh, who am I kidding – I need a fucking drink."

_"A drink isn't the solution to everything."_ Rude's disproving concern was beginning to grate.

_Yeah. I know._ He wanted to say that, sullenly adding, _Mom._ Instead, he exhaled, and murmured quietly. "It can be."

He hung up.

Then turned his PHS off in case Rude tried to call him.

He didn't need that shit.

He just… needed to lose his head and not think.

With that in mind, he entered the pub.

* * *

"Oh crap!" Helena raked her hands through her hair, finally, finally, _finally_ noticing the setting sun.

She'd been having such fun.

And now she had to go back.

Problem was, since it was getting dark, she was most likely going to get disorientated as she headed back to Rocket Town. And trip over tiny pebbles.

_Guess I have to make a phone call then._

* * *

"Are you sure, Hel?" Jackie sighed, shoulders slumped. "It's getting pretty late. Think you can make it back?"

_"I, er… don't know."_ Her blonde friend was pacing, as she was prone to do when conflicted. Jackie could just about hear her footsteps on the ground. _"I mean, he's perfectly willing to lend me a room, but—"_

"My advice, Helena, is to stay. Seriously. With monsters in the dark… you without a weapon… you're going to terrify that poor chocobo." Reasoning this out, the brunette tried to use persuasion. "It's too risky, and I don't want that on my conscious. Poor little chocobo, without his mama, or papa. Think about it."

_"Well, I wouldn't want that to happen."_ Helena murmured to herself on the other side. _"Alright, fine. You win."_

"… I win?" Grinning, she wondered if that was what she thought it meant, green eyes gleaming. "I win our little bet?"

_"No!"_ Helena shrieked, a little too high pitched for Jackie's liking. _"I didn't mean—I didn't mean __**that**__! I win __**that**__! That thirty Gil is mine, Jacks."_

"You're a liar." Jackie chuckled, and only shrugged when her roommate hung up too angry to deign a response. "I know you too well, squirt."

Slumping on the barstool, the chestnut brunette turned her attention to the television.

_"Rumour has it that his silver hair has saved us all."_ The news reporter said, gazing at admiration at the man.

Sephiroth. The latest cream of the crop, a long line of good looking men and failure for politics. And surprisingly green.

"Maybe," Jackie muttered to herself, sceptical. "I don't believe it, though."

Whatever, she shrugged, she could use another drink.

Approaching the barmaid, she stopped to give a smile to a redhead, who was slouching and giving her a very tempting look. One which she returned wholeheartedly flirtatiously. Since Helena wasn't here, she couldn't resist having a little fun. He looked to the type to know how to have a good time.

"Lady," he grinned, eyes green and glittering, up for some fun, red hair messed and tousled, "whatever you want, it's on me."

She bit back a smile and thought carefully before she opened her mouth, intrigued by what fun she could have with him.


	10. bottled up fizz

**x. bottled up fizz**

* * *

Rude's fingers paused on the keyboard, lightly tapping the buttons to see if it would help what limited data they had on their target.

_Professor Morton._

A former scientist that worked for ShinRa, had a wife and kids, had some sort of connection with Rosalind… and possibly, by proxy, Helena too. He had a good life – he became rich and successful due to his big brain that worked out impossible formulas. People had likened him to Professor Hojo and Professor Gast, and if the scientist had strove towards it, he could be like them: legends in their own way. (The death of Hojo had been covered up, partly because ShinRa did not want them to know about his generic insanity – only the staff knew, and with the staff, it would remain.)

He had a kind face, Rude thought, clicking on the few photos that the former ShinRa scientist was in. Blue eyes, dark sand coloured hair. As the years passed, he became thinner, withdrawn into himself. Shadows crept under his eyes, and that kindness became replaced by coldness.

But still, he remained well-liked.

Until the death of his wife. Disappearing a few days to mourn, before continuing his work; it seemed as if he was married to his work instead of the golden ring that still remained on his finger. He began to mutter to himself, and his lips would twist, drawn up in a strange contortion, like a snake skin.

Professor Morton's work continued to be excellent, and as long as he fulfilled the quota, ShinRa could not care less. Then surely but slowly, his success rate began to drop, his pallor became paler, and there was a panicked frenzy to his stride. He spent longer hours in the labs, sleeping where he worked, muttering equations most people could not comprehend.

And then he simply disappeared. He had enough, people said. People kept trying to break into the labs; he was becoming more paranoid, rumours spread. He had _enough_.

So he left.

That was the problem. He left without a note of resignation. He left without mentioning it to anyone. And ShinRa wanted to know _why._

It was pride that fuelled the company, and once loyalty was pledged, there was no going back. Once loyalty had been betrayed, there was no salvation except death. It wasn't hard to see why employees left with no warning, but a contract with ShinRa was a contract with death. It was all to do with pride.

Mulling this over, the bald Turk sighed; decided on a five minute coffee break to see if he could digest and break down the information.

Cappuccino, just how he liked it.

Yawning, he didn't try to hide it: he was tired. It was late, and truth be told, it was better if he simply called it a night.

Then an idea struck him, as weak as it was. It might not lead him anywhere.

But it was worth a shot.

* * *

Pink. Blue. Green. Yellow.

Helena knit her brows together, choosing a colour for a chocobo.

Thanks to drinking about ten or more cups of coffee – she was absolutely certain that she'd be able to make it back to Rocket Town before the sun rose once more. And yes, she might be a bit jittery and giggly, but who wasn't after twenty cups or more?

And, um, she was a bit spastic as well…

But, well…

"C'mon, c'mon…" Picking the reins and choosing her chocobo in a whimsical second, Helena made sure that all the items she had were needed and checked off.

Helmet? Check. Saddle? Check. Reins? Check. Gloves? Check.

Cool gloves? Double check.

Once more for luck.

_Ultra _cool gloves? Triple check.

There was nothing else that needed checking, Helena was certain of it.

And with that, Helena was off, back to Rocket Town.

"Tally ho!"

… forgetting her wallet in the process.

* * *

The phone call came later than either Biggs or Wedge expected.

But still it came, so Jessie wouldn't be that pissed off.

_"Well, hey, I'm sorry, but I specifically said that I wanted __**nothing**__ to do with you any more! What do you mean by calling me?"_

And alright, perhaps they lost their patience and called _her_ instead, but still, Jessie wouldn't be pissed off. And that was the main thing. No pissed off Jessie meant they had greater access to a wide variety of cookies.

That was the thing really, about being freedom fighters – cookies and making sure that their finances were in order and not standing out too much – it was a bit of a balance that the three of them had struggled with.

It was tough, when they tried buying pistols and grenades and the latest techno gear that Jessie loved so much and tried to remain relatively minor in the bank accounts. All that gear was expensive, and they couldn't stick out or take loans. That was too suspicious, in their eyes. Plus, there were loan sharks, and no one wanted to be 'chummy' with _them._

"Look, I know, Jay, but _still._ You know us. We wouldn't have done it unless it was absolutely necessary."

_"… sure."_ Oh, she was scowling, their Jay. But she was still going to help them.

"For old times sake, alright?" Wedge pleaded. He dated her once, and hoped that their relationship might appeal to her.

_"Well… alright. If it's something I can do, then I suppose…"_ Jay was giving in, and both Biggs and Wedge mentally rejoiced, high fiving each other with their grins. _"But only if it takes a second, although why you'd ask me is a damn mystery."_ She snapped, quick to add her grumbling two Gil. _"What do you want to know?"_

There was a pause, quite hesitant.

Biggs and Wedge glanced at each other, before they spoke in unison.

"The location of Professor Morton's daughter."


	11. hold your breath and count to four

**xi. hold your breath and count to four**

* * *

They were quick to move after that.

Jessie be damned, Jay had given them the information that they needed – and that's what they were going to do.

They'd kidnap her and find out where her daddy was.

* * *

_This was a bad idea._

In the back of her mind, this was the lone thought that repeated itself when Helena jumped and clung onto the pink chocobo when both of them trembled and stumbled over rocks or heard the feral growl of creatures that they were _really hoping to avoid._ But the caffeine in her system refused to let Helena sleep or think or function rationally, and so both she and the chocobo trudged on.

And on and on and on.

Until things were a little _too_ quiet, and a little _too_ fast paced for her liking.

And then… something happened.

To her, it was a blur; and she was hidden in the darkness, luckily masqueraded and at the right spot. She didn't make a sound — didn't really breathe — until she was absolutely certain they were gone, two voices muttering about hunting a beast in the middle of the night. She heard the click of their guns, and their deliberate footsteps; she heard their disappointment and the impatient roar of the car engine.

But… they way they were talking – hushed up and secretive –it didn't sound like any normal beast.

Not to Helena, at least.

But then – the caffeine finally wore out, and the jitter faded, and her eyelids stop resisting the call of sleep.

She was safe.

And if she wasn't, then the only thing Helena was certain about was the smell of her beloved chocobo.

She'd never really know that she escaped them by sheer luck.

* * *

Waking up, Helena yawned, accidentally inhaling a lot of feathers.

A squawked "_kweh!"_ was not what she wanted to hear.

And in fact, she froze.

Telepathically trying to say that her intent was not to eat the chocobo – she'd just in fact woken up like this. Bizarrely.

… the chocobo was not as ready to believe that as she hoped.

* * *

Thankfully, after a few apologies, the darling chocobo was willing to forgive her.

And if they hurried, they might be able to surprise Jackie.

The day was still young.

* * *

It was the kick more than anything else that woke Reno. The kick that sent him tumbling out of the bed with an "_oh, dammit."_ It wasn't really the kick's fault, Reno supposed, if he was supposed to blame the lady who kicked him. It was the fact that he'd stayed over and slept there.

He wasn't one who did that.

Not often, at least. Generally speaking, it helped him sleep – worn out in more ways than one, not bothering to get up and open the door, instead turning in and waking up later; but there was something so very comforting about the world of insomnia than the world of dreams.

It might help that his lady friend slept naked, but that was another point.

And last night's activities.

What was her name again…?

Suppressing a yawn, he stood up, and began to pick up his clothes strewn across the floor. Her name didn't matter, Reno shrugged, rolling his shoulders languidly. It was just a shag.

A nameless woman with a pretty face and brown hair – nothing special about it. Right time, right place? Maybe.

In any case, he'd better set a course straight for home. Rude would throw a fit if he didn't at least _try_ to leave Rocket Town. Well, 'throw a fit' would be the wrong term. Stare at the PHS, ignore the PHS, and glower at Reno (once he arrived with a smile on his face and a bag of the latest batch of Tonberry Tornado Tortillas) for a further two weeks.

And really, who was he to judge? If he, by pure coincidence and more of an accident than anything else, was the one who sheared Rude's golden curly locks and suggested a potion that had been recommended to him by Hojo that would grow hair instantly back to it's luxurious capacity, instead of permanently killing all hair cells… he reckoned that Rude may have been a little bit justified in his anger. But that was then and not now. Rude would still bring up that Incident. Reno knew – partly because it had been brought up six times already – Rude couldn't let go. Reno smiled ruefully: that was his best friend – his partner in crimes' problem.

Pausing, he hovered as he walked out of the bedroom.

Yeah. He decided. Might as well grab a snack.

Then button up his top.

And walk the walk of shame with pride.

* * *

The first thing she's going to do, Helena nodded to herself, was fall into the bed and not move until she had a _proper_ night's rest.

That was the best thing to do.

And deny at all costs that she lost the bet.

She yawned, unable to help it.

Only a few more steps, and then off to bed.

* * *

Opening the door, Reno did not expect to see Elena standing there.

"Reno…?" Confused, she blinked dazedly, swaying from side to side. "What are you…"

And she's gone – knees buckling, eyes fluttering shut, collapsing—

—straight into his arms.


	12. five, six, seven, eight

**xii. five, six, seven, eight**

* * *

_Fuck._

She's so light. Like a goddamn doll, china white and still.

And she fitted so easily in his hands.

_Keep breathing_. That's the key.

Now, where's he going to put her?

* * *

"There, I've got you."

Jackie stirred. Green eyes flickered open, toes curled, the bed sheets rustled. She didn't want to get up, not just yet…

A few more minutes would _surely_ be alright…

"That's it. There we go. Steady now."

Now _that _was a voice she didn't recognize.

Never so tender and caring like that_._

"You're alright now, Elena."

* * *

He wondered if he should say goodbye.

But, then, what's the point if she couldn't hear him?

* * *

Helena's back.

Jackie sighed in relief. _She got back okay. That's good._

Safe and sound, snoozing on the sofa. The older woman made a note that she'd move Helena to the bed later.

But… as for the guy from last night…

Gone.

And Helena didn't have a clue.

* * *

What was it about parks that were so relaxing? Was it a duck thing? Atmosphere? Lack of people? Or the peaceful ponds?

He'd never know.

Still, Reno thought, this morning had been… _unnerving,_ to say the least.

Even so…

… she was still the same. Exactly as he remembered.

Her skin was soft, warm, although her perfume differed. But… the way she lay in his arms, unmoving… he could almost believe that she was made out of marble. How similar she was to her sister.

Sighing, and knowing that he'd regret it, the redheaded Turk turned his PHS on.

No doubt Rude had left a scathing comment.

"_Reno, it's Rude. Call me back. Soon. It's urgent… it's about Professor Morton."_


	13. electric mouse squeak

**xiii. electric mouse squeak**

* * *

_5__th__ April. _Sixth months prior.

_29__th__ September. _Two years and four months prior.

_16__th__ January. _Four years prior.

There were more dates, but these three were the most significant.

A pattern that had eluded Rude for some reason — at first he thought they were just a few unrelated dates, separate events with no connection.

Looking closer, that was not that was not the case.

Now, he understood.

* * *

It was with great reluctance that Reno broke into his own flat in Nibelheim. That was a lovely holiday place — lucky for him that Rude was on vacation. But his problem was not with the flat. Not the actual 'breaking in' — as smashing a few windows, breaking doors, damaging a few gaudy statues… that was all well and dandy, since Rude could pay for it — it was the actual _facing_ Rude again that was the worst part.

His report about his mission in Rocket Town was done, handed in just as Tseng requested. Dog-eared be damned. And sent by good ole chocobo post. Nothing quicker than the _Golden Feathered Service_. Once an envelope was sealed, it remained sealed until it was given to the receiver.

"Hi honey, I'm home." He drawled, slouching into the sofa, boots already relaxing into the table.

"And what sort of time do you call this?" Rude called, in the kitchen.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Reno mumbled to himself, cricking his neck. "Doesn't fucking matter."

Rude's in the kitchen. _Kitchen_. That meant _food!_ Reno's eyes flashed, nose already sniffing something delicious.

"Is that pie? I can smell pie! That's gotta be pie, right?"

A sigh.

"… Yes, Reno, it's pie." Well, _he _didn't sound too happy. Then again, Rude had a good reason — since Reno was quite content to tear pages out of the 'How to Be a Good Friend' book and incinerate them into itty bitty dust specks. "But not your favourite."

"Dammit."

Well, pie was pie — and Reno loved them all.

* * *

"So, what did you want to show me?" Finished with dinner, dishes put into the dishwasher, hands scrubbed, Reno proceeded to ask about the phone call.

"This."

Rude showed him, clicking the webpage he saved onto his favourites.

Bright banners. Neon blue. Clashing with the red and pink and purple colours with the white font. Apparently music was also playing, but Rude had muted the sound. Photos with black frames, instruments.

Reno briefly wondered if they were any good.

"… a quartet?" Incredulous, Reno glanced back. "Are you shitting me?"

"It's not _just_ a quartet," Rude patiently replied, ignoring the sceptic face. "We—ShinRa, that is, hired them for a number of occasions, special events — you know the ones. And sometimes, though not always, there were… break-ins. In the labs which Professor Morton used at the time. Apparently, the scientists sometimes had close calls, just able to prevent leaking valuable information. Or so the archives say."

"And ShinRa didn't notice a pattern?"

"Either that, or he liked the music too much to care." Rude shrugged. "Most of the time, the scientists never mentioned it — it could be that the Boss was never informed or preferred to remain ignorant."

"Maybe." Doubtfully, Reno conceded, but let it go for the argument's sake. "But how do you know this is more than just coincidence? Special occasions and all. I mean, whoever the people were — breaking into the labs — how do we know that it's not someone else taking advantage?"

Rude scrolled down.

"Oh."

"… yeah."

"Do people not…"

"… I think it's illegible to most." Rude gravely answered. "That, or they don't notice the scroll bar. The webpage sometimes glitches and causes crashes. That might be why."

Whatever the answer was, Reno was still confused. How did no one notice it?

It was right there: painted bright red against maroon.

'_Join AVALANCHE, part time QUARTET! part time TERRORISTS!'_


	14. try not to suffocate

**xiv. try not to suffocate**

* * *

"Well, why _not?_" Her hands flew up into the air, flaunting her frustration.

"Because." Huffing, the other folded her arms.

"Because…" Helena prompted, waiting for two seconds, before rolling her eyes and stamping her foot. "Because _what?_ I need a reason, Jacks!"

"Well, why do you want to go?" The older female asked.

"Well, why do you want to stay?" The younger female shot right back. "We've already been here for a while. And there's nothing. _Nothing._ Okay?"

"Are you even trying?" Arching one eyebrow, Jackie couldn't help but wonder. "These past few weeks, yes, they've been for your benefit — coming and going and exploring the work —– but you've got to make an _effort_ to remember your former self!"

"Of course I am!" Shouting, Helena's cheeks flushed crimson, absolutely furious. "You think I _like_ not knowing who I am? You—you think I'm _happy_ being—being 'Helena?'"

"If I recall, you chose that name. _Instead_ of 'Elena.'" Coolly, the brunette retorted.

"That's not what I meant!" Flustered, her cheeks burnt bright red. How could she explain it?

"Look, all I'm for is a few more days. That's it." Figuring that leaving this place was inevitable, Jackie tried a different angle. "There's this guy I met—"

"A guy?" The blonde blinked, caught off guard. "You mean… you found someone?"

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"Yeah." Jackie grinned, a pretty layer of pink spreading. "And, he asked me out. He's pretty cute — I couldn't say no."

"_How_ cute? What's he like?"

* * *

_Thank goodness for the truck._ Rude thought as he drove to Rocket Town.

Normally, he would walk — enjoying the random battles, flexing his muscles and posing with imaginary music for thirty seconds — but like Reno said, this was important, and taking the scenic route was the slower path.

And he was in a hurry.

AVALANCHE was after Professor Morton's daughter.

* * *

For all Jackie's attempts to stall her, Helena had made up her mind.

She was going to go, make a head start, and organize a boat trip to Junon. She'd meet up with Jackie in Costa Del Sol, maybe earn a few Gil in her job, depending how long Jackie was going to date her new boyfriend — or if she going to suggest a long distance relationship before following Helena.

She'd grabbed her packed bags and set off.

But not before a quick stop at the café.

It was impossible to resist their strawberry parfait.

Digging in, she smiled.

And then she heard them.

_Voices._

The same voices from before.

_That_ night. A few days ago.

And… they were getting louder. Nearer.

Leaning down the table, so her face became obscured, she found her floppy summer hat and sunglasses in her bags. Now, she had a disguise — whether they were after her or not. Probably not, but it wouldn't be bad to side with caution.

Pity she had to return that lovely chocobo back to the farm.

With that, she finished her parfait, and with controlled steps, she walked out of the café, paying the bill — good manners were expected — then speedily walked out of Rocket Town.

Never checking if she was being followed.

* * *

Helena. Spotted.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Rude was glad to find that the waitress from Costa Del Sol was alright.

Taking a twenty minute break, it's not that hard to notice the girl in the polka dot dress out in the open.

Giving a shout and a wave, he drew her attention.

"Over here!"

"Rude? That you?" She sounded… relieved, though she picked up the pace, quicker than before.

Looking behind her, Rude knew the reason why.

AVALANCHE.

"Get in the car — I'll take you somewhere safe!" he yelled.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. All the same, Rude saw the questions on her face. _Can I trust you? Is this a good idea? But… it's either you or them._

"… fine." Throwing her bags inside, Helena wasted no time to get in, shutting the door with a slam. The bald Turk was already revving up the engine.

"You okay?" He asked, after she caught her breath.

"Do I look it?" Pulling a face, the blonde woman slumped into car seat, shutting her hazel orbs. "Don't know what on the Planet is happening, but… yeah, I think… I'm okay; I'm okay."

Making a quick swerve, Rude hoped he could outrun them. Of course he could — he was a Turk.

Odds were, if she had no idea what was going on, then she had no idea who she was.

Helena. Professor Morton's daughter.


	15. dig an early grave

**xv. dig an early grave**

* * *

They'd lost them. Didn't know how, but they did.

Biggs sighed; Wedge joining his misery.

Jessie was going to be pissed.

Like she always was.

* * *

"So." Helena gazed out the window, before facing her favourite customer with a smile. "How have you been?"

"Good. You?"

"Alright, I guess. It's only now that it's gotten weird."

"Really?" Any information about AVALANCHE's targeting her would be useful, no matter how minor.

"Yep. Maybe it's a Rocket Town thing, I don't know." She shrugged, before she glanced at the mirror, checking just in case.

"…" He didn't believe that, but he didn't want to destroy her outlook. Chances were though, she didn't believe in the statement either. "Where were you going?"

"Before what just happened? Costa Del Sol. I was planning to wait until Jackie — you remember her right? She worked at the counter, has brown hair and green eyes? — got back. I'd have booked tickets to Junon — the ferries don't come so often these days. But well, then this happened."

"Helena, I'm on my way to Junon. I could take you there, if you'd like." Carefully, Rude made the offer, before adding, "I'd advise you to lay low in the meantime."

"… which is why we're going to Nibelheim right now?"

"Which is why we're going to Nibelheim right now." Rude affirmed.

"How long would lying low take before I reached Junon?" Narrowing her eyes, her impatience leaked out. She had the grace to look embarrassed, so Rude answered her question.

"Less than a week. Don't worry; it's happened a few times in my profession — I know what to expect." He wondered if she wanted more assurance; she seemed at a curious loss for words, and Rude was unsure if he liked it or not. It was a slight change to the waitress he knew in the sunny shores of Costa Del Sol. "I can take care of you, Helena."

"Well, thank goodness for that."

She still looked a little pale; perhaps she was still in shock.

"You're safe now."

And a soft smile flittered onto her face.

"Thanks."

* * *

He'd been expecting this moment for quite some time — and still Reno didn't know how to prepare for it.

Rude had finally returned, just before sunset, Elena with him. As expected, Rude was acting like a proper gentleman, taking her bags like the sweetheart most ladies thought he was outside of his job.

Not as expected, Elena was called Helena and had absolutely no idea who he was.

"Hi. I'm Helena. Rude told me about you — you're Reno, right? It's nice to meet you." She grinned before entering the flat.

_What. The. Fuck?_

There wasn't a trace of recognition on her face — and he would know if she was lying.

"Rude…" A warning tone.

"Reno…" A mirrored pitch.

"_What_ happened out there?" Clearly enunciating, he tried to restrain his anger, although it didn't work.

"AVALANCHE."

"Okay." Green eyes closed, darkening in colour. He paused. "Rude. She doesn't remember me."

"Should she?" With caution, the bald Turk asked, observing Reno's reaction, strangely still.

Reno opened his mouth.

"Um, can I use your telephone? I must have left my PHS in the hotel, or it's lost…"

"No."

"Yes, of course you can, Helena." Rude shot a warning glare at Reno, which Helena missed but the redhead understood. "Don't mind him; we just have a few things to discuss."

"Sure, alright." The petite blonde nodded. "Thank you, Rude."

She went back inside.

Neither said anything for a while.

But evidently, something was very wrong.

* * *

"C'mon, c'mon…" Helena murmured, looping the cords around her finger. "Please pick up, Jacks…"

"_Mm, hello? Jackie speaking."_ Hearing that somewhat grumpy voice, Helena couldn't resist a grin.

"Hey there! It's Helena. Just wanted you to know that I'm alright and that I'm well on my way to Costa Del Sol."

"_Yeah? That's great."_

"Anything from the boy toy?" Unable to resist asking, the blonde giggled at the splutter on the other side.

"_He's not my boy toy!"_

"Whatever you say, Jackie."

"_He's not!"_ Indignant, it wasn't that hard so imagine her flustered. Once Jackie's buttons became visible, it was hard not to push them.

And besides, her boy toy wasn't really a boy toy. But that didn't stop Helena from calling him one.

"Alright then—"

Snatching the telephone out of her hands, the redhead (is it Ronald or Reno?) scowled and slammed it down.

"Times up, _Helena_."

Helena was left to stare after him, utterly confused for that uncalled for behaviour.

_What's his problem? _


	16. a tempest grows

**xvi. a tempest grows**

* * *

A week was _long_.

And generous.

Never mind that Rude had said that it was _less _than a week.

Reno had apparently made it his life's purpose to annoy Helena every second of the day.

And Helena had decided that the only way to strike back was to be as equally as ridiculous.

So, where did Rude sit in this childish war?

Right in the middle, being pushed and pulled, and forced to listen to both of their bitching about each other.

He didn't like it.

* * *

"Seriously! He's such a _jerk!"_

"…"

"Who does he think he is?"

"…"

"I swear I'll wipe that smirk right of his face!"

"…"

* * *

He didn't like it one bit.

* * *

"That _bitch!_ Did she really think that she'd get away with it?"

"…"

"I didn't even know we _had_ custard in the fridge – so how was she… how was it even possible?"

"…"

"I hate her like this."

* * *

_Why are you doing this?_ It's a question that had been in his mind for most of the week, and was never going to be answered.

Really, Rude could live with that, never knowing the true answer.

He could sit and watch television, munch down popcorn while one person antagonised the other – and eventually the popcorn would be thrown about and more mess was made – and still he would nod, ignoring them because it was none of his damn business, anyway. Why were they involving him?

One more day, and then they were off to Junon.

Crossing the sea.

Goodbye Costa Del Sol.

* * *

There was something about boats that made her feel drowsy.

They were calm, relaxing, gently going up and down like a simple ship in a bubble bath… Helena wanted nothing more than curl up and sleep.

And at least _the jerk_ hadn't said anything on the whole voyage yet. It was odd, she hated what came out, but she kind of missed bantering with him. Then again, with her brain being fuzzified by the water… it was likely that she couldn't think of witty retort if he did speak to her.

Trying to suppress a yawn, and failing, the redhead caught her in the act, and smirked.

_Jerk._ She glared in response, but he didn't look away, green eyes glittering.

What was with her? Feeling embarrassed all because of him… she was tired. Yawning was natural. Why did he have to smirk – not even say a thing – and still be able to ruin her mood?

Fine. Whatever. It didn't matter.

Rolling her eyes, she turned away.

She didn't expect Reno to sit besides her, sighing while making himself quite at home.

"What do you want?" Grumpily, Helena asked, not bothering to even glance at him.

"Just wanted to sit here, that's all." Easily, he replied.

"Yeah right." She muttered, not caring if he heard her or not. If he did, he didn't seem to care.

And… it must have been minutes, or even seconds later… her eyelids began to close and her head began to feel heavy… inadvertently leaning into him.

"Helena…?" Quietly, the redhead spoke her name for the first time.

She was too tired to care, let alone move.

"'m sleepy." She mumbled, too sluggish to notice her words slurring together. "Don't… don't go. Just for tonight, okay?"

Besides… his shoulder made a good pillow…

Nearly felt familiar, his arm around her.

"'kay." His voice lulled her to sleep, so gently that she nearly didn't hear him. "Just for tonight."


	17. white shore

**xvii. white shore**

* * *

Last night never happened.

Never.

Nor did the morning in which she woke up.

She did not hear lewd comments because she was not there. In the boat. With—with _him._ Sleeping next to him. Besides him.

Not at all.

And she did not startle herself by the sound of his voice, or hit his chin with the sudden jerk of her head, or send them both into the ground.

Absolutely not.

* * *

"Morning Rude!" Grinning, Elena skipped to her favourite Turk, leaving a certain redhead lying on the ground, grumbling whatever he damn well pleased. "How are you?"

"… fine." Deciding to play ignorant about the solution was probably the best solution anyway, Reno thought. It was a good answer.

"Have a nice night?"

"… yes. You?"

"Well, it was alright, I guess. Found a horrible pillow, but I suppose a horrible pillow is better than no pillow." She shrugged, most likely with an evil grin on her face, knowing that the 'horrible pillow' left on the floor had heard her.

"…"

Another good answer, Reno supposed. However, he personally disagreed with Helena's statement. He was not a horrible pillow but a _fantastic_ pillow. Rude was too muscular, and therefore, had horrible, blocky pillow skills. Reno was muscular yet soft-skinned, the perfect combination.

Besides, if she thought he was a horrible pillow, then why did she snuggle up to him and cuddle him?

"How long till Junon?" She asked, smoothing out her summer dress, hair being blown carelessly to the wind.

It was amazing how excited she was and how it stole his breath away.

"Twenty minutes."

"Great!" Clapping her hands, she leaned out to inhale the salty breeze.

Mildly, Reno asked himself why he wasn't removing himself from the floor. But then, there were advantages to this position, that 'Helena' would most likely disprove of, had the wind been a little kinder to Reno, and Helena leaned out _just _a little more…

"Reno."

"Yes, Rude?" A cheeky, impish smile graced his face.

"Get off the floor."

"Yes, Rude." A sad, sullen frown replaced it instead.

* * *

She's almost giddy by the time she steps off the stairs. Off the continent. Across the sea. Jackie's all the way in Costa Del Sol. Helena's all the way in Junon.

She can hardly believe it.

Hands press against her cheeks, teeth bite against her mouth, suppressing a smile, yet it showed in the dimple of her cheeks.

"Isn't this amazing?"

"Right. Whatever." The red-haired _monster_ muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Looks like you're back to your usual self." Folding her arms across her chest, Helena can't help but narrow her eyes. Also can't stick her tongue out – not in front of Rude. When his back was turned, maybe, but the moment might be too late by then.

"Look who's talking." Reno replied easily.

"… shut up, the both of you." The bald Turk sighed, walking away. "I'll find some accommodations – there's bound to be some Turk discounts somewhere."

"The beauty of ShinRa – all those perks." A lecherous grin snuck upon the redhead's face, and not a grin that Helena particularly liked.

"Oh, shut up, Reno." Wrinkling her nose, Helena turned away.

"So what now, princess?" Curious, he asked her; nickname surprising both of them.

"… princess?" Insulted, she turned back, eyes blazing in anger. "What?"

"Well, I figured you deserved some sort of nickname. Rookie, Baby, Doll, anything will do. But you're a special sort of priority, and right now, I'm babysitting a spoilt brat. So, Princess. It's all logical." He shrugged, as if it didn't matter. It probably didn't—to _him._

"Helena will do." Stoically, Helena gritted out, hating that she sounded so stuck up – exactly as a 'princess', and a spoilt one at that.

"Well, 'Helena' just isn't going to cut it with me." A smirk. "You know you'll always be a princess to me."

Words failed her.

Anger didn't.

"Why… what… Re… but I… can't you… _do you have to be like this?_"

There was no way that sentence could _ever_ be meant in a nice way.

"Heh." Insufferable – that's what he was – _insufferable!_ "Only to you."

Speechless, she began to follow Rude, who had been walking quite tranquilly without them. And was starting to walk faster.

"Don't leave me with him!"

Chasing was the more accurate word.

"Well, hey, don't forget about me!"

* * *

A hotel was found soon enough, and with amicable staff.

Like an employee of ShinRa always said: this job had _benefits._

* * *

"Do you need to be beside me every moment?" Helena asked, freshly out of the shower, hair still damp, though her clothes had changed – a green and yellow striped dress.

"… no. Just tell me where you are, call me every ten to twenty minutes—"

"Thirty." Reno lazily corrected, lying languidly on the bed. "This princess—she's a big girl. I'm sure she can take care of herself every half an hour."

"—thirty, then, but no more than that," Rude allowed, if begrudgingly, "keep me updated if you're going to move or you see something odd. I prefer calls, but if you must, text. Unless Reno or myself are with you." The calls would be pointless if that was the case.

"You sound like such a mom." The redhead yawned, "But then again, she _is_ such a kid."

Helena opened her mouth to retort – then thought better of it.

"That makes two of you then." The bald Turk sighed, his comment ignored by both of them.

* * *

"I'm going to the beach!" Helena grinned, whirling away. "PHS with me, every thirty minutes, got it. Be back soon."

* * *

The silence was slightly odd to hear, after hearing the bickering cacophony between Helena and Reno every day, morning till night.

Then:

"… Princess?" Did he really need to ask?

"Elena's latest nickname. Made it up on the spot." Reno poked a smug grin. "All the better, she took as an insult. As she was supposed to."

Truthfully though… he kind of liked it. If only to get a flush out of her face.

"Right." Blankly, Rude blinked, folding his shades into his pockets. It was a rare habit, but it happened. "Of course."

"You sound upset. Why?" Upset was the incorrect. Rude sounded devoid of emotion – strangely monotone, instead of his normal guarded nuances that rang occasionally in his voice.

"You and Helena. You and Elena. Whatever you're hiding from both and me – how you act towards her… it's inconsistent. You have a problem with her, or you don't – no one acts that erratic, not to mention you're still an insomniac, despite sleeping besides her… nothing adds up."

"So? If it doesn't concern you – what's the problem?"

"_You're_ the problem. _She's_ the problem. Why don't you just _tell_ Helena what happened to her sister?" Rude snapped, losing his patience.

"Why don't you?" Reno replied, failing to maintain a calm façade, despair laced in his voice.

"Because." Rude put his sunglasses back on. "I'm not the one who went to Rosalind's funeral."

Silence.

"I'm not the one who was intimate with her."

More silence.

"Reno." Quiet but firm. "Tell Helena."

* * *

It's this beach. _This_ beach.

Old and new, familiar yet unfamiliar.

She poured grains of sand through her fingers, willing herself to remember.

Something—_something_ was pushing and emerging from her forgotten memories—that much Helena knew, but _what?_

Loneliness. Feelings of sadness. Mingled with the ocean waves and white shore.

But there was _happiness_ too! So much happiness that slid over her sandals and toes.

Yet, the sadness overwhelmed her. And she didn't know why.

"Elena."

A voice. One she had grown so used to in this past week, and she couldn't bring herself to hate him. Not just now. Not when he sounded as sombre as she felt.

"It's Helena." And all the same, she said it, correcting him.

An unhappy pause.

Part of her wanted to ask what was wrong, but he spoke before she could say a thing.

"… whatever." Shifting of weight, his feet scuffled against the sand. "I have something to show you."

* * *

A grave.

She was standing in front of a grave.

… the grave of Rosalind Morton.


	18. across her memories

**xviii. across her memories**

* * *

"What?" Dumbly, Helena said.

"I said, meet Rosalind Morton." Reno sighed, weakly flicking his hand in the tombstone's direction. "Your sister."

Spinning.

Her head hurt.

Spinning.

Knees felt weak.

Spinning.

Buckling beneath her.

"Whoa, I've got you." Empty words. They didn't draw her closer, they became detached. Far away.

Spinning.

"My… my _sister_?"

_I have one? And she's… dead?_

"Yeah. She was a Turk. She died in a mission. It was anybody's fault – but… if you like, you can blame me. I was there. I was with her. We never found the body, but then… that's what an explosion does, right? Completely destroys—_shit,_ sorry. C'mere, let's get you to the bench." He pulled in some direction, her legs followed, and she continued to breathe, but Helena saw nothing.

His words floated in her mind, spinning in circles, not making any sort of sense.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm so, so sorry."

She saw his face through blinks, green and pale and red and black, tattoos aligned almost to his eye sockets.

But it blurred before her, even though her shoulders were still and she remained mute.

He felt like an illusion, warm skin, neck hair rustling between her fingertips, closer, closer, and closer still.

Was she kissing a dream?

* * *

Real. Fake.

Elena. Helena.

Who… who was she?

Hands touched, mouths melded, a beating of a heart rang in her head.

And this urge—this need to feel _real_, _alive_, tore and clung to flesh.

Buttons ripping apart.

* * *

_Helena. Elena._

_Names. Faces. Identity._

_Elena. Helena._

_Jackie. Rosalind. Rude. Reno._

_Helena. Elena._

"_You're—"_

"_Yes."_

_Elena. Helena._

"_I'm—"_

"_I know."_

_That line, so clear cut like diamonds – shakes and snaps and sobs against his chest._

_A slap._

_Did she give or receive it?_

_Water slides back and forth, an echo of blood red foam._

_Step back. Step forward._

_Helena. Elena._

_Who was she?_

_Who is she?_

* * *

"Elena."

She kissed him, remembering this touch, this mouth, this _spot_—

"Elena."

Not listening. Not listening. Not listening—

"Elena!"

Forcibly, he pried her away from him, voice sharp, much more serious than their previous arguments, shocking her.

His hands fit around her shoulders, and she swore that this has happened before.

Breathing too fast, chest rising up and down, cheeks wet, against the ocean shore…

"Say it again." She murmured, desperate and fragile and about to shatter into a million pieces into his hands. "Say it…"

"Elena." Breathlessly, Reno complied; a mantra entwined with dark eyes and pale skin and haunted memories. "Elena, Elena, Elena, Elena…"

It didn't feel right.

But neither did Helena, any more.

She kissed him again, fleeting, gentle, over in a second. Her heart's racing much too fast and her reality is spinning in circles around her, shattering at a gunpoint.

Reno's much to close, and yet she couldn't bear to step away.

"Re…" Wanted to say his name, feel his skin upon her skin, no matter how gentle or innocent or intimate. "Reno…"

The sky was falling, soaking into her skin, darkening his eyelashes and curling her tresses together.

Everything was falling apart in wet droplets.

Dizzy, she struggled to maintain consciousness, determined to speak—to say something—_anything_, but nothing came out.

Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe nothing mattered except for spinning in broken circles and his hands on her shoulders; his scent inhaled.

His arms snaked around her, holding her together.

He didn't kiss her.

But then, he didn't let go, either.

* * *

She succumbed to the darkness eventually, his arms still around her.

* * *

And she remembered.

Two weeks after the funeral of her sister, was a phone call left for her.

"_Hello Elena."_

Unmistakably the voice of her dear, departed Rosalind.


	19. catch this fallen star

**xix. catch this fallen star**

* * *

Time. Endless. Infinite.

Beyond.

There were numbers in his mind, and each one reminded him of a horizontal eight.

* * *

Her eyes opened.

Reno's certain they did.

Brilliant and brown.

Before they closed once more, submerged in her dream.

* * *

_Most of the time, she sits in the harbour. Sometimes boats pass, other times the breeze plays with anything it can find, other times she can see crabs and lobsters in the sea, children's voices playing in the beach._

_When asked why, she only shrugs._

_In her free time, this is where she is._

_Elena is good at waiting, if nothing else._

* * *

_You have one new message._

"_Hello, Elena."_

* * *

_Footsteps wash away by the sea, forgotten in the sand. Gold and yellow marred by green and blue. Wishes that her eyes can sparkle like the water, the promise of floating and drowning. She's looking through a kaleidoscope, and all she sees is this._

_Laughter._

_Seagulls._

_Hats._

_Fingers splayed out, reaching, reaching, always reaching._

_But she never manages to make it._

* * *

_Rosalind stands beside her._

_And yet she is a million miles apart._

* * *

_You have one new message._

* * *

_Her sister has always been cold, aloof. A contrast to her warm and bubbly personality. While Elena likes hugs and strawberry sundaes, Rosalind prefers target practise and keeping her mind busy. Not that Elena doesn't… it's just, she prefers to relax and goof off._

* * *

_Elena doesn't know how it starts._

_The distance._

_The rivalry._

_The dislike._

_Bigger. Better._

"… _I've become a Turk."_

_And she doesn't know what to say._

"_Congratulations." She tries to smile, but jealousy strikes within her. It creeps on the tip of her lips, trying to pull that smile into a frown._

_It's not her sister's fault._

_It's not._

_But Elena's a hard worker too. When her mind is set, there's nothing that will sway her. She's the youngest, the baby of the family, and—being a Turk—that would have proven that she could take care of herself. That Rosalind would stop physically pushing her away, although lately she didn't resist._

_It's not Rosalind's fault that she's brilliant._

* * *

"_Hello—"_

* * *

"_I miss her." Elena says, someone there, at the corner of her eyes. "So much."_

_In the next second, she's crushed in his embrace. Inhales, such a comforting scent._

_The harbour continues as usual, and her bunched up pigtails seem to fall away in the breeze._

"_I know, Elly. But… we'll see her again."_

"_Yeah." It's just them, the harbour, the sea, and the setting sun. "I know, Dad."_

* * *

_He stands before her, hands in his pockets. Red hair, green eyes._

"_You're—"_

_She knows him. Rosalind spoke of him a few times. Not much, but… it was enough._

"_Yes." He nods. "I'm Reno."_

"_Rose told me about you." It's not accusatory, but her cheeks flush ever so slightly._

"_Well, you look just like her."_

_She flinches at that – some inexplicable hurt that she won't tell him and never will._

* * *

_Come to think of it, she never had introduced herself to him, did she?_

"_I'm—"_

"_I know." He interrupts, copying her. "You're Elly."_

_Elena bites her lips, disproving the nickname._

_Elly was a ghost. A child. The person who she has left behind in order to become Elena._

_Only Rose could call her that._

"_Did she tell you much about me?"_

_A quirked smile._

"_A little."_

… _maybe she's mirroring his smile right now._

* * *

_She doesn't expect her to see him again. And she's waiting by the harbour, catching the breeze in her loose locks._

"_Priscilla said you'd be here."_

"_Mm."_

"_Elly—"_

"_Elena."_

"_Elena, then. It's about Rosalind."_

* * *

_He stands besides her at the funeral._

_And her father is nowhere in sight._

* * *

"_Dad." She knocks at his door. "Dad!"_

_There's nothing._

"_Please, talk to me." Her voice lowers, become softer. "Don't leave me, daddy."_

* * *

_You have one new message._

* * *

_She sits on the beach, watching the sea move back and forth._

"_What are you doing here, Elly?" Sighing, she buries her head in her knees, arms embracing her skinny legs._

"_I could ask you the same thing, Elena."_

_It's a rush to the head. One bad day that makes everything bursts._

_A slap, a shout, a sob._

_He doesn't react._

_Not even with his cheek stained red with her hand, white contouring her remnants._

"_Get out! Go away! Don't—"_

_He kisses her. Takes a second to work out what's happening. And by that time, her hands are already around his neck; her back is pressed against the wall, his hands skimming under the waist._

_It's a rush to the head. One bad day._

_And she needs this—him more than she ever realized._

* * *

_One day he's not even there._

_No note. No anything._

_Up. Gone. Vanished._

* * *

_How well do you know Rose?_

_Were you her boyfriend? Did she have a boyfriend?_

_Questions that she never gets to ask._

* * *

_Two weeks later, and there's one new message._

* * *

"_Hey," Rosalind grins, face a little warmer than Elena remembers. Proud, even. "You found me. Knew you would."_


	20. but you're bringing me down

**xx. but you're bringing me down**

* * *

She didn't remember how she arrived here.

Presumably, Reno pushed her here, guiding. Or maybe, he carried her. Be it piggy back or bridled style.

But she woke up; saw Reno leaning against the wall, familiar smirk playing at his lips.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." Sitting up from the bed, shoulders hunched, blearily blinking; words tumbled out of her mouth.

Pieces were coming together, though not all of them were there just there yet.

* * *

Waking up, she felt different.

Stranger.

Older, newer.

Not entirely sure if it's a good or a bad thing.

She bit her lip, trying to digest her thoughts. Swallowed, felt slight discomfort.

And Reno kept looking at her with intensity.

Wondered if she should tell him to stop, but instead, asked him something different.

"What do you think of forever?"

Tried to gauge his reaction, find the features that triggered a memory, be it sensuous or one that put her in a trance.

But no, he was still the stranger that tried to annoy her, yet there was affection too. No, it wasn't that. He was more than a stranger and less than a friend. More than a friend and less than a lover. He… he was Reno.

Simply Reno.

"Doesn't exist. Why?"

A slight smile tipped her lips.

"No reason." She shook her hair, flaxen locks falling into her face. "Just curious."

"Elena." Flinching slightly, she still didn't say anything – didn't correct him. Before, she was sure she was 'Helena', despite being curious about her past. Now, 'Helena' and 'Elena' were two sides of her, and she could not find the middle ground. "How much do you remember?"

"I remember you." Elena admitted. "The funeral. Standing besides you. The beach. I remember Rosalind – the sister I looked up to, who sat so perfectly in her pedestal. Cold, yet warm. The beach. The sun. The holidays. Bits and bobs."

Helena looked away, hand brushing locks. Cheeks flushed. It was nothing to be embarrassed about. The beach. That time. People did it all the time.

"… but not your father?" Reno gently probed, quiet.

"… nor my mom." She shook her head. "I just… I wish I could. I saw her gravestone there – right beside my sister and… and… there's _nothing_." Her voice died away, disheartened. Not a memory, not a memento, not a memoir. Nothing.

"I'm sorry." She nearly didn't hear it, too immersed in her thoughts.

But she didn't know how to respond to him either.

And couldn't find the words to tell him that she didn't hate him, that she was petty before, that she was… different.

Not quite Elena. But not quite Helena either.

* * *

"Rude," Reno sighed, leaning outside in the corridor, voice hushed. "Talk to her."

Hands curl inside his pockets.

He himself had talked enough to Elena.

"Okay." Beginning to move, Reno stopped him, ineffectively hitting his shoulder.

The action got his attention, but also gave the redhead pain, and most likely, bruises.

"Damn you and your hard skin. What are you, metal?" Reno complained, shaking his injured hand.

Rude rolled his eyes, mute, glad of his shades.

"… you could have just said 'wait'."

"Well I _didn't_, did I?" Scowling, the Turk with hair, cradled his damaged hand. Sighing, his shoulders sank and his eyes darkened. "She's beginning to remember."

There was a 'but'. Rude knew, because there always was.

"… _but_ she can't remember Professor Morton."

"Okay." He nodded. That was alright. Perhaps he could try a different tact, triggering for other memories. "We can adapt. We can work on this."

It felt ironic.

Elena. Helena. Subjected to tests to remember whatever cracks of her past to aid them.

All in order to find her father.

* * *

The rain never stopped.

Helena stood beside the window, staring straight ahead. Beyond the window was the city of Junon, and beyond the city of Junon was the sea.

Breath marks were almost as visible as her hand print on the window.

"Helena."

Turning, eyes wide, Helena looked at him. Trust, fear, confusion – her emotions were so clear. So unlike Rosalind, who compartmentalized her thoughts and feelings.

"Rude." She tried to smile, and failed. "Is that your name? Or just what people like to call you, when you're anything but?"

He ignored that.

"Reno told me that you're starting to remember your past." _Are you alright?_

"Yes." Nodding, Helena gave a bitter smile, contemptuous. "My memories. And they don't feel like they're mine."

Remaining silent, she took it as her cue to continue.

Rude always was a good listener.

"I don't feel like _me_, anymore. And I miss _me._ But—who, exactly am _I?_ Am I 'Helena', the cheerful girl who like polka dots dresses – and still do, as a matter of fact. Or, am I 'Elena', the…" Her eyes lowered, trying to think of how describe her former self. "… the girl how was hard-working and competitive?"

"Was she cheerful? That Elena?"

"… sometimes." Helena stared at her hands, shaking slightly. "Most of the time. Not always."

Personally, they sounded almost the same to Rude. But perhaps, it was merely two sides of the same coin, and in the eye of the holder, though they weren't as different as night and day, the differences about them bothered her.

He paused, taking care to phrase his response carefully. "You are whoever you want to be. Don't let your past define you, don't believe that your future is predetermined. Believe what you want, and start from there."

Let her reflect on that, while the rain began to end.

* * *

"… short talk." Reno noted once Rude returned. He had moved to the lobby of the hotel.

"A long talk was unnecessary." He shook his head. "She needed to take it easy. Helena is… someone who requires careful steps."

"Baby steps." The redhead shrugged, displeasure leaving a bad taste on his mouth. "Fine."

He didn't like it, but it was necessary.

* * *

She pulled her hair into a ponytail. Grabbed her PHS. Umbrella. Raincoat. Threw her bags outside the window – nobody would go out in this weather.

She needed to think, without feeling under pressure.

She wanted fresh air and to sneak out without the two Turks following her.

When the time called for it, Elena could be discreet.

(Helena… less so.)

* * *

Something was wrong.

Reno knew it. Rude knew it.

And as the door came crashing down… both knew why.

Professor Morton's daughter.

Gone.


	21. her burnished hometown glory

**xxi. her burnished hometown glory**

* * *

Her eyes were shut. Her ears strained for sound.

Her PHS may be pressed against her ears, but that didn't mean that she could hear a thing.

It rang, and she breathed out.

"… _Helena?"_ Jackie's voice, loud and clear, nearly shouted in her ear. Well, Helena thought sourly, that was her fault for turning the volume up so loud. _"Hel? You there?"_

"Yeah." Helena blinked, looking up. Somehow, she had stopped noticing that the rain had stopped, and it was night time, stars lighting up the sky. "I'm here, Jacks."

"_Well, good, because I've because saying your name for the last minute and a half, I swear."_ Helena couldn't help it, grinning at her chiding. _"What's the matter? You don't normally drift off like this."_

Frowning, she wondered if she should spill the beans. That her sister was alive—that she even _had_ a sister—who had faked her own death, (possibly… she was believed dead at the very least), and that not everything had been restored. How had she ended up in Costa Del Sol, if she lived in Junon for most of her life?

"No." The lie was the best option. "I've just had an odd day, that's all. Besides missing you, of course."

"_Tell me all about it."_

"Can't." _Won't_, rather. "I'm tired, and I wanted to know how you were doing."

Blinking, Helena tried to count the stars.

"_Aw, that's sweet of you. I'm good. I'm on my way – I'll be there soon. Promise."_

"You promise?"

"_Yep."_

Helena was the believer. Elena was the sceptic.

"_Alrighty, kiddo. I'm off to bed. Nice of you to call, but… I'm tired."_

"'kay." Helena smiled. Without her memory, all of this would have been so much simpler. She'd have been more trusting, less deceiving, and…

"_Go to sleep, Hel. Night."_

Her smile felt slightly forced, though her tone remained light and unassuming.

"Night."

… why did Jackie pick her up from the café when she was an amnesiac, so long ago?

* * *

Perhaps she waited forever for her answer to be answered. Perhaps it only took five minutes.

But when the bus eventually came, she smiled at the bus driver, paid her fee, and grinned a little brighter when the bus driver returned the gesture. She found a place to sit, although not many people were actually _on_ the bus this late at night, it didn't stop her from being picky.

A window seat.

Elena liked window seats, however she looked at it: windows were like movies that never ended. The whole world beyond the window continued to grow and change, however slight, be it a chocobo storming from one place to another, or just the subtle shift of light.

Helena preferred to sleep.

And once she was tired of one activity, she moved onto the other, imagination flowing from one spot to another.

* * *

Hijacking a bus really wasn't that hard. Especially if the bus driver thought he was being replaced anyhow.

Biggs grinned.

AVALANCHE were finally getting closer to the truth about Professor Morton.

Even if his daughter was going to be sacrificed along the way.


	22. leave not a thing

**xxii. leave not a thing**

* * *

Morning came like a rose petal shred into pieces.

It was not good.

And Helena was nowhere in sight.

_Fuck._

* * *

"How have you been sleeping?" Rude asked.

"Me? Great. Never better." A beat. Reno rolled his eyes. "How do you think? I haven't slept _at all._"

"But you did." Rude pointed out. "You did sleep when you were near Helena."

"Well… Elena's _Elena._ She's… different." His hand raked over his ruffled hair. "I don't know what it is… it's Rosalind, it's guilt, it's Elena, it's torment… it's just… under my skin. The effect she has on me. I don't know what it is, but it's… odd."

Maybe it was a little of everything.

Forming into attachment.

Rosalind—she was cold, a diamond in the rough.

But Elena—she was warm, the sun at its best.

* * *

"She's not coming back, is she?"

A crooked grin.

"No. If she had, she would have left a note."

"So why would she go?"

"Because, what if she found what she's looking for? And telling us would lose her independence. From her amnesia, up until this point – she has been a caged bird." Reno shrugged, shaking his head. The thing about Helena – she's too trusting. Things weren't secrets, she could pout and be mad all she liked, it didn't mean that in the next twenty minutes her past wouldn't come unravelling with annoying customers or 'sweethearts like Rude'. "It's a stupid move, but then she's… Helena."

"We can find her." Rude reminded Reno. "It might take a while, but it can be done."

"Tcha. I never said we'd wait for her _here._ Let's track her down before she does something stupid."

* * *

Midgar it was.

Home of ShinRa, rife with the latest technology.

Like employees said: this job had _benefits._

And people abused it.


	23. twist of gold

**xxiii. twist of gold

* * *

**

"Hey! Wake up!"

Someone was slapping her face.

"Don't be like that!"

Hard.

"Oh, can it, Jay!"

One last slap, a rush of energy and impatience. _That_ was what jolted Elena's senses back to her, brown eyes opening in an instant.

"Hey! What's that for?" Rubbing her bruised face, Helena groaned, before looking up. And blinked, many times. "Um…"

This was not a dream.

She was not drunk – her cheek hurt, but not her brain.

And she did not feel remotely dizzy.

So, why was she seeing double?

"… Jackie?"

* * *

"Wait, she knows you?" Sceptical, the first Jackie – much more ferocious than Helena remembered – turned to the other.

"Yes, _she_ does." The second Jackie – rolling her eyes and folding her arms, like Helena remembered when frustrated. "And her name is Helena—_if_ you let me explain, Jess."

The blonde gave herself a few seconds to process this. Jackie and Jess, two identical women, have somehow taken her off the bus to Midgar, and placed her somewhere unknown. Great.

"Um, where am I? Jackie? Little help here?"

"In a minute, Hel. Just—let me… salvage this." The brunette said, before turning back to her… clone? Sister? "She doesn't know anything, alright, Jess? She's an amnesiac; she can't remember anything about her past. I've been living with her for the past year or so. Still can't remember a thing. Now, when I _agreed_ to help you – under the condition that _I would not do so again_ – why did Biggs send me a text claiming that you were at the end of your patience?"

"_Because_—" Struggling to say any verbal words, Jess' face reddened. Took a breath, then continued, visibly restrained. "I may have… lost my temper a few times? I mean, c'mon, Jay, we're _so _close!"

"I know." Chiding her, Jackie remained unmoved. "And that is exactly why you _shouldn't_ lose your temper. This has been a long, long job – and just because the end may be near, it doesn't mean that we can throw a tantrum. You're not a kid anymore."

"Shut up." Scowling, Jess retorted. "You are so annoying."

"And you wonder why I left AVALANCHE? It wasn't because of _my _ego, I'll have you know."

"That is so—"

Before the angry bickering continued, Helena interrupted them.

"Jackie! Seriously, _what's going on?_"

Sighing heavily, Jackie leaned back. "Where to begin?"

* * *

Extending a wave to the clone, Jacks dully introduced her. "I'd like you to meet my twin sister, Jess."

"…" There's silence, before the blonde settled on, "Hi."

"Jessie is part of what you'd call a terrorist group. In ShinRa's eyes. The rest usually view them as nuisances, helpful losers, or freedom fighters. Naturally, Jessie prefers the last option; I'm more inclined to believe that they're losers."

"Oh, come _on!" _Jessie did not take too well to that. _"_You weren't always like this."

"Point." Jackie conceded, nodding. "We were originally, a quartet. I'm pretty good at the cello, Jess, the viola; Biggs and Wedge, the other half, are the violinists. We were funded by a man named Barret Wallace – who gave us the idea to make a business of it – after entertaining his daughter, and gaining a bit of reputation. However_,_" And at that, Jackie's gaze fell to her sister's. "_Jess_ wanted to be a bit more 'gung-ho', shall we say? Thus adding, a few… details, hints, here and there – anything for more Gil. Eventually, we became a jack-of-trades, kind of."

"And that's how we became freedom fighters – due to our clients' wishes." Jessie grinned. "We've never rejected a request, or failed a job. It takes time, but that's partly the reason why the client pays half of their fee at the beginning."

Nodding slowly, Helena wondered if that really was a great thing. "Okay… what does that have to do with me?"

"That I can answer!" Jessie snapped her fingers, beaming. "It's very simple—"

"And I'm getting there." Jackie shot her sister a look, green eyes darkening. "Anyway, at some point, I got tired of it – all I really wanted to do was play music, while Jessie was all about the money and the odd dangerous job. So I split. _Before_ I did though, a client came, and required a very… _special_ kind of job."

"Espionage." Jessie rubbed her hands, evidently pleased. "I love being a spy."

"That's my sister for you. Hopeless." Jackie's shoulders slumped, leaning against the wall. "Moving on, this client required information that would have looked _odd_, I guess, if she investigated it herself. We didn't really ask: Jess simply cared that there was another mission similar to spy novels. So we tried, with moderate success, until it came to a point in which our client became… um… Jess?"

"_Targeted._" The sister supplied gleefully.

"Fine, the client became _targeted_, and so, drew up another plan: we were to stage her death. She gave us the mission details, we lay the traps, and she was thought dead." The brunette paused, teeth biting her lip, hesitating for some reason. "But that wasn't enough for Jess, no, _she_ wanted to know _what _the original mission was about: why was our target so interested in this information?" A glare, one that the other sister shrugged off. "I called it quits, Jess became… obsessed, shall I say?"

"Maybe." Apparently Jessie didn't care. "Still curious."

The back story was nice, Helena supposed, but it didn't answer her question. Or why she was involved with this.

"Whoops." An apologetic grin. "You're in Midgar."

… did she voice her thoughts again? Dammit, Helena hated when she did that.

"Okay. Um, alright." The blonde took a minute to process it, this information that she was related to, somehow. "So, why am I here?"

"Getting there, promise Hel." Jackie raised her hands, her expression a mixture of amusement and pity. "The information the client wanted was about her father."

A pause.

"And that client was your sister, Rosalind Morton."


	24. oh, nevermore shall it be the same

**xxiv. oh, nevermore shall it be the same

* * *

**

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Reno asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"…" If there was a way to interpret Rude's stoic face, Reno would call it _unmoved._ Bastard didn't even have the gall to look embarrassed. "It's business."

"But by _planting_ a bug on her?" Red eyebrows rose.

"Tracking device." Rude corrected, miffed. "Get it right."

Reno was not interested at all.

"It was just a precaution."

"Precaution my ass." The redhead muttered, scowled.

"… it worked in our favour, didn't it?" Rude sighed. "We can find out where she is."

It was true, Reno had to admit.

ShinRa technology – finest thing that ever was.

"Right." Unhappy, the shorter Turk slumped his shoulders. "Where is she then?"

"In… Midgar." A frown spread across the bald Turk's face, as he waited for the specifics to appear on the screen.

* * *

"Sewers? No! No, I'm not going down there!" Helena screeched, none too happy with her situation.

"Look, Hel," Jackie sighed, "I know it isn't exactly—"

"Touch luck, girl." Jessie leered, interrupting her sister while waiting for Biggs and Wedge to go in first. "I'm going to count to three. One—"

"What for?"

"—two—"

"Jess, really!"

"—three!"

And so, Helena found herself being shoved into the sewer, despising her situation even more.

* * *

"I hate you, Jackie." Helena scowled, kicking a puddle and inevitably getting wet.

"Helena…"

"No, really, I hate you." Flatly stated, the only blonde eyed the 'crew' with disdain. "Why are we in a sewer, any of you?"

"'Cause, Jessie liked to keep tabs on her…" Biggs answered, exchanging a look with Wedge. "… obsession. And Rosalind was willing to oblige – so long as she gained information as well. Last thing she heard, well—"

"—was _this_ sewer. More importantly, the end of it." Jessie shrugged. "And that was the last time we talked."

Prompting, Helena asked. "So, what was at the end of the tunnel?"

"A door." Wedge answered. "Nothing could open it, dent it, or even lay a scratch on it. It needed a key, if you will. A certain kind of code." Pausing, he frowned, disliking his phrasing for some reason.

"Something that Rosalind knew. And if we're lucky, she might have told you – and that's our ticket to the other side."

"I feel so loved." Helena dryly said. "This is why you were after me?"

"That, and the fact that you have other uses too." Jessie admitted, shrugging. "But we'll get to that later."

"Jess!" Jackie narrowed her eyes, reproaching. "If you want to persuade Helena to help you, that's _not_ how you do it." Exhaling, the more mature sister glanced at her former roommate, apologetic. "Think you can help us? To end this wild goose chase."

It seemed that their appearance was the only thing the sisters shared, for their methods differed drastically.

And truthfully, Helena wanted to say no.

But she couldn't.

She owed Jackie.

"Fine. I'll do what I can." Helena gave in. "This doesn't mean that I've forgiven you, though."

It was a sad smile that appeared on her lips, as she answered back. "Understood."

* * *

The end of the tunnel was a long way away.

Yet, the more she walked down the winding path, Helena couldn't help but feel that this place was so very familiar. Somehow.

* * *

"_Oh, Dad." A slight smile. "Predictable as always."_

"_But… how?" Elena crinkles her nose. "How do you always know?"_

"_He wants to be found." Rosalind shrugs. "By us. So if I'm the 'key', like he always said – I bet my favourite number is the password."_

"…"

_A pressing of buttons, the sound of machinery, the door slowly opens._

_The older sibling smirks._

_Lucky number eight._


	25. drip

**xxv. drip

* * *

**

The door opened easily.

_Dad really hadn't changed._ And a small smile spread across her face.

"Hel," Jackie asked quietly. "How much do you remember?"

"Bits and pieces," Elena told her, eyes averted. "Not everything."

"… well, in any case, we've gotten past this – so I say we proceed." Jessie said loudly, pushing the blonde forward. "Let's go."

_

* * *

_

They walked, continuing to inhale the stench – fumes that could not be healthy to anyone. Grime clung to the walls, murky green and sickly yellow.

Honestly, Helena didn't know how far she had walked – it seemed endless. But Elena was willing to guess that they weren't in Midgar.

Then she noticed the black.

The crusted remains of dried blood.

_

* * *

_

"_Hello, Elena."_

_Silence._

"_Roz," the younger sibling whispers softly. "You're… dead. Aren't you?"_

"_I'm not dead, but thank you for attending my funeral." A pause, embarrassed shuffling. "That didn't come out right. I'm sorry."_

"…" _What exactly is someone meant to say to that?"_

"_Elena, look, I know you're mad at me, and before you ask, no, it's not a joke, but… if you're willing to meet me, then I'll be in Kalm. It's about—it's about Dad."_

"…"

"_See you soon, I hope."_

_Orange juice. What she really needs is orange juice right now._

_

* * *

_

_She's angry. She's happy._

_But Elena feels betrayed most of all._

_Rosalind __**lied**__ to her. Made her believe that she was dead – and she had mourned for her._

_

* * *

_

_It takes a while – backing, staring at the sea, making a pro and con list – but Elena also decides what to do next._

_To Kalm it is._

_

* * *

_

"_Hey." Rosalind cracks a slight smile, lowering her sunglasses to show her true self – alive and well. "You found me. I knew you would."_

_Elena is quite torn between hitting her elder sister and hugging her. In the end she does neither, standing awkwardly, hands firmly attached to her bag._

"… _hi." Meekly, uncertainly, she says. "Thought you were dead. Nice to know you're not."_

"_I…" The older sibling reaches out, and refrains at the very last minute. Being a Turk has hardened her, and there's walls between them that have formed and solidified in their absence. "I simply… there was an explosion that separated us – the Turks, I mean. They thought that I was dead. They waited, but… I didn't meet them again. It worked out in my favour, which is good. I wanted to leave, and it's hard to leave you're a Turk. You know too much; blood is on your hands. Maybe it's invisible, but it's there. People treat us differently, but I'm okay with that. You deal. You learn to deal, because there's no other way."_

"_Roz…"_

"_We can catch up later. Right now, we need to get to Midgar." The older sister pushes her shades up, briskly beginning to walk._

"_Why?" And Elena has no choice but to trail after her._

_Like she always does._

"_Because that's where Dad is."_

_

* * *

_

"_Sewers? Really?" Sceptical, Elena raises an eyebrow. _

"'_Fraid so, I've got an informant that says he lives around here – somewhere." Grimly, Rosalind nods. "Knowing Dad, sewers are perfect – so long as he builds a secret passage way that spirals into the unknown."_

"_It's going to smell… but… alright." Elena moans, before entering the sewer. "I want to know what Dad's up to as well. All this time, I thought he was locked up in his room, but he wasn't there. Hasn't been there for a while."_

_

* * *

_

"_Are you alright, Elly?"_

"_It's Elena." Stiffly, the younger sibling responds. "… I'm fine."_

"_Right. Elena."_

_Rosalind looks a little sad, but she wouldn't say why._

_

* * *

_

"Um, guys?" Wedge spoke, gaining Helena's attention. "Just to check that it's not my mind playing tricks…. that _is_ a skull, right?"

Snapped out of her memories, she knew exactly whose it was.


	26. honeysuckle and cicadas

**xxvi. honeysuckle and cicadas

* * *

**

A scream rang loud and clear.

_Bang!_

"Elena?" spoke, surprised, not expecting a reply.

_Bang!_

_Always a dynamic entry,_ Rude thought, knowing what was about to happen next, _always._

_Bang!_

But then, such were Reno's antics.

_Bang!_

A flare for melodrama, and a whimsical nature, destined for unpredictability.

Always interesting, and always a hazard.

Whatever happened next, Rude was certain he was prepared enough.

After all, they were going in the right direction.

_

* * *

_

A scream rang loud and clear.

"Hm?" Blinking, pen paused midair, he stopped. Head tilted to the side, he couldn't quite place it. That sound.

That voice.

The pen dropped – and suddenly he _did_.

Unable to stop giggling at the realization, he removed himself from his desk, a mass of paperwork and calculations, grabbing a gun.

It was _her._

Professor Morton was ready to welcome his dear wife into his arms and bring her back to life.


	27. infinite number eight

**xxvii. infinite number eight

* * *

**

"It's only a bat, Jay." Jessie murmured, quite amused.

"_I_ didn't scream." Jackie rolled her eyes. "It was Helena."

"…" Said person's cheeks flushed red. "Bats in the dark are scary, okay? I was taken by surprise!"

"Well, I guess—"

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

"… g-guys?" Helena ventured to speak, after everything became still and silence reigned in the sewers. She swung her flashlight around, trying to find AVANLANCHE and Jackie.

Then she noticed the shadow on the wall.

"Oh, sweet pea." Professor Morton stepped forward and enveloped the shaking girl into a hug. "It's alright. They're gone now. Those pesky creatures that separated you from me."

Freezing at once from his contact, Helena took a deep breath and tried to think clearly amongst the dizziness. "What. What do you mean… 'gone'?"

"_Dead,_ of course." His cold hands cupped her cheeks, wiping away the faintest trickle of tears. "Why shouldn't they be?"

_

* * *

_

"Come with me, darling." Excited, Professor Morton took his dearest by the hand and began to lead her downstairs to his underwater lab.

But she wouldn't budge, as if some scientific glue had stuck her feet to the ground.

"… honey?"

"What are you doing?" Her voice shook, but he ignored that.

"I don't understand. _That's_ why you're back, isn't it? _Isn't it?_" Pupils dilated as panic set in. "I'm finally ready for you, _that's_ the reason you came back. You knew. You came back. That's why, isn't it?" His grip tightened on her, an uncomfortable reflex.

"Ready?" Pretty doe eyes blinked, and his beloved asked quietly. "For what?"

"Oh, dear, of course you don't know – I haven't _told_ you yet." He began to giggle again, full of mirth. "Silly me. I'm hopeless, aren't I? Scaring myself for no reason. Silly, silly me." His smile stretched across his face. "I'm going to make you immortal."

_

* * *

_

_Three people sit on a beach._

_Two of them are children, the other is an adult._

_And yet his ducklings are both the spitting image of his dear wife._

"_You believe in forever, don't you?" The elder girl says, smiling softly at her younger sibling._

"_Forever and ever." Dreamily, the smaller girl repeats, as if she's infatuated with the thought of forever. Immortality._

"_It's a nice thought, isn't it?" The older child catches sight of a particular seashell, glossed in a baby pink, and moves to give it to her sister._

"_Yes." Professor Morton murmurs to himself, unheard by his children. "I suppose it is."_

_But a seed has been planted in his mind, and for now, it waits before it can truly grow._

_

* * *

_

The two Turks stood motionless, hardly able to believe it.

Immortality?

That was impossible, right?

But… they way Professor Morton talked – _laughed_ – it was almost if…

… he was insane enough to believe he'd achieved it.


	28. the barrel of a gun

**xxviii. the barrel of a gun

* * *

**

_Spinning, spinning, spinning._

_Not laughing, but screaming._

_

* * *

_

Shivering, she walked through the lab, glancing at the mess he made – diagrams, equations, test tubes that contained liquids of different colours and different paces of rising bubbles.

"Are you alright?" Her father asked her, seemingly concerned.

"Yes, quite." Forcing herself to smile, she was unable to shake off her uncanny feelings. "Just a bit cold, that's all."

"Can't be helped, lovely." He shrugged, now disinterested. "It's part of the conditions needed for this to work. Now, immortality may hurt a little initially, but it's only a temporary issue, I assume." He cracked a smile, some sort of joke that she didn't understand. "But it's alright, I promise. Once you're immortal, I'll never lose you again. Not like before."

_

* * *

_

"_You'll be alright." He says to her, kissing her forehead. "It won't take long. You won't even feel a thing._

_Tying her up in the gyroscope, he smiles at her, genteel._

_In the distance, Rosalind calls her name._

_

* * *

_

"Fuck's sake, Rude!" Reno fumed, trying to move past the maze that kept _changing_ every five minutes. "I don't like this."

"We'll protect her _and_ know what the scientist was up to." Rude vowed, deciding that brute force might be the solution to this.

They could only do it once they could get through the fucking maze.

_

* * *

_

"Dad…"

He ignored her, pushing a few buttons to open the machinery.

"Darling, it's all right. I love you." A kind smile grew on his face. "No one can stop us now."

"… is that what happened to Roz?"

_

* * *

_

"_What are you doing?" High pitched and somewhat gargled, her daddy says to his eldest daughter._

"_No, dad, the question is, what are __**you**__ doing?" Cold eyes gaze at him in reproach. "It's not fair to Elena – and that's why I'm doing this!"_

"_But – but—"_

"_She's not Mum, Dad!" She scowls, pressing the button to release her sister. "Please understand that."_

_Utter stillness._

"_Oh, I do." Very, very quietly, her father speaks. "Perfectly."_

_The gyroscope stops, and Elena can do nothing but breathe, too disorientated to do anything else._

_Calmly, Rosalind undoes the straps, carelessly not paying attention to her father._

"… _Elly?" Worried, she asks, tentative. "How you do feel?"_

"_I…" Words fail her, her world is far too dizzy to make sense of anything. "… don't know."_

_Wants to say that she's fine, but that feels like a lie._

_Trembling, she leans on her sister for support, while Rosalind guides her forward, lost in the laboratory labyrinth._

_But Professor Morton knows every nook and cranny to this place._

"_I wouldn't go, if I were you."_

_And though their backs face him, both siblings clearly hear a gun being cocked._

"_You're move, duckling, but don't say I didn't warn you."_

_

* * *

_

"I stopped her." He answered simply. "Decapitated her just to make sure. I left her out because she couldn't rot in _here _– that could have ruined everything!"

He's mad, she realized with horror. Despair and isolation had driven sanity out of his mind.

And he couldn't stop giggling, terribly, terribly thrilled.

"I had to, dear."

"No, Dad." Elena whispered. "You didn't."

_

* * *

_

It only took a moment, but all Elena needed was her dad to turn away, busy in his preparations.

Because she knew him.

Her daddy.

And he wouldn't stop unless someone stopped him.

So Elena would.

She pulled the trigger because this wasn't _her_ daddy anymore.

This was a deranged lunatic.

Quick. Easy. A painless death.

At least, Elena hoped so.

_

* * *

_

They heard the gun being fired, and feared for Helena's life. The maze was easy to break, once they really thought about it. All that was left was to look for their client.

And they found her, weeping in front of a fallen figure.

"Elena…" Reno murmured, stepping forward.

She turned to face him, her expression remorseful. Sorrow had rendered her mute.

"It's alright, it's over now." Trying to comfort her, Reno picked her up.

"… I… I killed him…" She choked out, between gulps of air.

"You had to." Rude attempted to sooth her. "He'd have killed you if you hadn't."

"No." She shook her head, dissatisfied with his response, correcting him. "He'd have made me immortal."

"And immortality…"

"… is horrible when everything you love leaves you. I never wanted it. It was… him… who…" And she couldn't say anything else, throat suddenly too thick with what felt like nausea.

_

* * *

_

Later on, none of them would know how they left.

Somehow, they found a submarine and used it.

Finding themselves on the shore of Costa Del Sol.

Meanwhile, the underwater laboratory blew up fathoms below, and all those possible theories of immortality transformed into fish food.


	29. so long and goodnight

**xxix. so long and goodnight

* * *

**

Vacation was over, but Reno refused to leave until he saw a real smile grace Elena's face.

And he knows her real smile, so different from her faked ones.

That's when he'd know that she was alright.

_

* * *

_

"Y'know, we could use someone like you in the Turks. If this whole thing was a test, you'd have passed with flying colours."

"Mm, maybe." She nodded absentmindedly, not quite sure how to respond.

"Helena—"

"I did some research, and found out there was a storm – the night before I... washed ashore on Costa Del Sol. I think that, couple with… shock, caused my amnesia." But as for why her library card was in her shoe, that reason still eluded her. "I'll be fine."

"… how much do you remember?" Reno asked, a careful expression on his face, a strange amalgamation of something guarded and at ease.

"Most of it," she admitted. "I know who I am, who was, where I came from, my family… and you can still call me Helena if you like, but I think I'll go back to being Elena Morton for now." She's missed herself – the person she used to be. Elena. Helena. Elena. She liked that name now, almost like a song in her mouth.

"Elena Morton, huh?" Reno smirked, green eyes gleaming. At her small grin, teeth showing slightly, he nodded and continued. "So what now?"

"I think… I'll get to grips with everything." Pausing, she thought about the possibilities. "Take some time to adjust, and then, if you're still interested, I want to be a Turk."

Better than Rosalind. She'd surpass her sister in this.

"Well then." Reno grinned, as if he was about to tease her. "Until the, 'Laney."

Her cheeks flushed. "It's Elena."

"Whatever you say, princess."

She ignored him.

"Until then." Elena Morton said, waving the two Turks goodbye.

She'd see them soon.

* * *

**a/n. **_Thank you for reading this fic, I hope you enjoyed._


	30. bonus

**xxx. bonus

* * *

**

Firing a gun was dangerous.

Elena needed lessons.

Rude volunteered.

It was a simple procedure, now all Elena needed was faith in herself and accuracy. Simple.

Until, one day, out of nowhere, she shot a duck.

And Rude, for no reason at all, smiled to himself.


End file.
